


Angels of the Night

by Mrs_SimonTam_PHD



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Asexual!Death, Asexual!Raphael, But there's no explicit stuff, Chuck Shurley is Not God, Chuck Shurley is an idiot, Chuck is a Shit Father, Especially towards the end., Fluff, Journalist!Balthazar, Librarian!Lucifer, Like it's heavily implied, Like majorly dubious, M/M, Marketing!Castiel, Not really smut??, Notary!Michael, Pathologist!Raphael, Photographer!Gabriel, Pierced!Lucifer, Pimp!Chuck, TW Dubious Consent, TW Mentions of Horrific Treatment of Sex Workers, TW Mentions of Sex Work, Tattooed!Lucifer, Tattooed!Michael, The angels are prostitutes, They were 16 when they started, Underage!Balthazar, Underage!Castiel, Very Unhappy Big Brothers, prostitution AU, this has a happy ending, tw mentions of abuse, writer!Lucifer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 15:06:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 23,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12728943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD/pseuds/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD
Summary: Chuck Shurley is a poor, penniless writer with six children. He needs an income that will help him out until he gets a book published.His solution?Having his sons sell their bodies for money.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wholeheartedly blame @samwise-the-true-hero and @spnyoucantkeepmedown for encouraging me to write this and not telling me "finish a long fic before you do this fic" and for being generally helpful. One could say @madamelibrarian also encouraged this. 
> 
> I thank @spnyoucantkeepmedown for beta'ing. 
> 
> I know this is a deviation from my normal type of thing, but. . . It was begging to be written. 
> 
> Any errors that are in here are probably because I wrote this entire fic in four days.

Chuck Shurely often wondered when and where his life went wrong. Was it when he decided to major in English? Was it when he married Magdalene? Was it when they adopted Raphael? Maybe when Magdalene decided to leave him for some hotshot lawyer in upstate New York, leaving him with six children, ranging from ages 16 to 7? 

He didn’t know. Writing was his passion, his only focus in life; maybe that’s what got her. And it didn’t help that week after week, month after month, work after work was rejected by publisher after publisher. He’d write for months on end, get back rejections, and then rewrite it. Nothing ever seemed to stick. 

A few years went by, scrimping and saving every penny. Two years after Magdalene left, Michael went off to college. “I’m going to be a lawyer, Father,” he said proudly. Chuck  _ was  _ proud of his son, how could he not be? But a  _ lawyer?  _ What a lack of a passion for life! In his opinion, of course, and he’d never say that to Michael’s face. Michael got into a good school, on scholarship, and two years later, Lucifer joined him at that same school, telling his father that he was going to be an author like him. 

Chuck didn’t want to dissuade his son, especially because Lucifer apparently had a gift with words. His bright and mischievous second son could wax poetic and would read things Chuck would never dream of. So maybe, maybe that was a good thing. 

Raphael was a year behind Lucifer, unsure of what he wanted to study, but he knew he wanted to do something with either medicine or death. Morbid one, Raphael was, but Chuck supposed he could understand that, and it made sense with Raphael meaning “God Heals”. 

By this time, Chuck was exhausted from trying to find the funds to support three children in college and three in regular public school. The welfare money and food stamps only went so far. But he couldn’t get a real job. Writing  _ was  _ his work. He’ll make a breakthrough one day, he knows it!

When Gabriel announced his intention of getting his photography degree at the local community college, Chuck could have wept with relief. Community college was a  _ lot  _ cheaper than the four year university that Michael, Lucifer, and Raphael was attending. Sure, he got a discount on their tuition, but still. Luckily, Michael was about to graduate. 

However, Chuck was at his wit’s end, and it was while the seven of them were at dinner one night, that he observed his sons, truly observed them. Lucifer and Michael were engaged in a heated, yet amicable debate about homicidal timing and the differences between common law and not-common law. Raphael was staring at a book, absently chewing on his food. Gabriel was stuffing his face full of candy that he had brought to the table and sharing with his younger brothers. Balthazar also had a textbook at the dinner table, his French textbook; and Castiel was just quiet, absently rubbing his fingers over his well-worn sweater vest. 

And it struck Chuck in that instant that he had  _ incredibly  _ attractive sons. Michael and Lucifer; tall and slender, Michael dark and mysterious and Lucifer bright and mischievous. Raphael was dark, and brooding, but there was a quiet air of confidence lurking underneath the surface. Gabriel was just as bright and mischievousness as his brother, with a smile on his mouth and candy in his hand. Balthazar, with pale grey eyes and a devil may care attitude he no doubt learned from Lucifer and an accent that  _ no one  _ knows where he picked up. And young Castiel, only fourteen but already looking handsome and an almost perfect mix of his brothers with dark messy hair and bright blue eyes. And innocent. 

He realized he could make money off of them.  _ Good  _ money. Money to make sure everyone was fed, clothed, and warm. The blankets all had holes in them, and little Castiel was going to freeze come winter. 

“Michael,” he said absently as he began jotting ideas down, interrupting the debate Michael and Lucifer were having, “What’s the legal age of consent in this state?” 

Michael thought for a moment. “Sixteen,” he admitted. 

So Castiel wouldn’t be able to do it. But Balthazar  _ was  _ sixteen; in fact, his second youngest son was almost seventeen. 

“Why do you ask, Father?” Michael asked politely. 

“Got an idea for something, needed to know,” Chuck said absently. 

Michael nodded. “Hey, Luce, are you free to quiz me for my LSAT tonight?” 

“Sure,” Lucifer beamed. 

 

It was about two weeks later that Chuck gathered the five oldest children together while Castiel was at book club (who goes to book clubs at fourteen?) and sighed. 

“Boys, it’s come to my attention that you’re all handsome young men,” he said. 

Michael nodded, Lucifer smirked, Raphael looked perturbed, and Gabriel and Balthazar had mouths full of saltwater taffy. 

“And I’m sure that you know we need money,” he continued. 

“We’re bringing some money in!” Michael said. 

Lucifer nodded. “Refund checks, for all of us.” 

“I know,” Chuck said. 

“And I’m getting a job this summer,” Michael said, “I’ll need it for when I’m in law school.” 

Lucifer nodded. “I’ve been thinking about setting up writing commissions for that one fantasy series I love,” he said. “Or maybe the student newspaper.” 

“We can all get jobs,” Raphael said softly. 

“You can,” Chuck agreed, “but it wouldn’t be enough. The house needs repairs, you all need new coats- especially Castiel- and new bedding would be nice. As would food that doesn’t come from a can.” 

“What are you thinking, Father?” Michael asked. 

“Well,” Chuck said, “It’s illegal.” 

Balthazar grinned. “I’m good with illegal.” 

Well, that wasn’t exactly comforting. 

“If we’re caught doing illegal activities, that’s jail time,” Michael said. “And we could potentially lose our benefits.” 

“I know,” Chuck said, “But this would be an easier activity  _ not  _ to get caught at.” 

“So that rules out arms dealing,” Lucifer said dryly. 

“Lucifer, I’d make you out the type to smuggle weapons,” Michael chuckled. 

“What are you thinkin’, Dad?” Gabriel asked. 

Chuck took a deep breath. “Prostitution. Specifically, through Craigslist.” 

“Sure, Dad,” Lucifer drawled. “Let’s find us dead in some weird kinky sex position tied up and evidence of rape because some psycho bought a male whore to dismember.” 

“You watch  _ way  _ too many true crime videos,” Michael rolled his eyes. “But Lucifer does have a point. Prostitution has a higher statistic of murder than, well, most other illegal professions.” 

“I will personally vet all the clients thoroughly to make sure you won’t be seeing a sociopath,” Chuck said patiently. 

“Rates?” Gabriel asked. 

“I was thinking that no penetration would start at fifty dollars,” Chuck said, “Penetration one hundred, anything kinky gets another fifty added to it.” 

“How would you advertise us?” Michael asked shrewdly. 

“I was thinking of calling the set of you ‘Angels of the Night’,” Chuck said. “You’re all named after angels, after all. And each ad would be tailored to the person.” 

“No pictures,” Michael said firmly. 

“They need to see-” Chuck began to explain.

“Balthazar, while the legal age of consent,” Lucifer cut their father off, “is still considered a minor until his 18th birthday. If this blows up in your face, you would be charged with running a sex ring  _ and  _ distribution of child pornography.” He shook his head. “No pictures, I agree with Michael.” 

Chuck sighed. He hadn’t considered that. “Alright. No pictures. I will do my best with descriptions alone.” 

“And we want to look over the ads  _ before  _ you post them,” Michael added. 

Chuck withdrew five pieces of paper and handed them to their respective owners. They took them and read them in silence. 

“So. . . we’ve got code names, like we’re spies,” Gabriel grinned, peeking at Balthazar’s. 

“I don’t want your names out there, even if Michael and Gabriel are common,” Chuck explained, “Lucifer, Raphael, and Balthazar are not as common. Especially Lucifer.” 

“So. . that’s why we get code names,” Balthazar said. “Can we share our codenames?” 

“Sure, share amongst yourselves,” Chuck said. 

Michael slowly shook his head. “The Soldier of God?” he asked. 

“Well, Mikey, you gotta slay that serpent, ya know,” Lucifer grinned, peering over at Michael’s first few sentences. “ _ Tall, dark, mysterious. . . with dark green eyes that keep your gaze, no matter how much you want to turn away, this twenty year old man is the perfect specimen for those nights where you want to be told ‘be still’. _ ” Lucifer gave a low whistle. “Damn, Mikey, Dad gave you  _ game _ .” 

Michael flushed brightly. “It’s your turn, you snake,” he said. 

Lucifer rolled his eyes and looked at his. “I’m, by no surprise, known as ‘The Devil’.  _ The brightest star of Heaven fell, into temptation, and so shall you if you follow this twenty one year old with messy blond hair that mocks a halo and blue eyes luring you into the icy depths that is the center of Hell. Care to fall with him?”  _

Balthazar cackled. “ _ Blond hair that mocks a halo, _ ” he quoted, almost wheezing. “Why does this describe you all too well?” he asked. 

“Because it does,” Lucifer shrugged, obviously not disturbed by it. 

Raphael cleared his throat. “I’m ‘The Healer’,” he said softly. “ _ If you need someone to help heal those wounds, this twenty year old charming black beauty is here to help with that. His strong, stoic nature will soothe you naturally, and his bedside manner is impeccable. _ ”

“Not bad,” Lucifer hummed in thought. “It describes you well, Raphe.” 

Raphael gave a small smile. “I want to be a medical examiner, I don’t think ‘bedside manner’ is needed when your patients are dead,” he said. 

Lucifer, Gabriel, and Balthazar laughed while Michael shook his head fondly. Chuck was a little disturbed.  _ Morbid little shit.  _ “Alright, Gabriel, your turn,” he said. 

“I’m the Messenger, duh,” Gabriel said. “ _ Don’t let his size fool you-  _ DA-AD, I’M NOT THAT SHORT!!” He pouted at Chuck while his brothers laughed. 

“Even Cas is going to be taller than you,” Lucifer giggled. 

Gabriel sighed and returned to reading his blurb. “ _ Don’t let his size fool you; this eighteen year old amber eyed man is delivering a very special message to you, and that is to come to him and let him make your wishes come true.”  _

“That’s cute!” Lucifer protested. “I’d be more liable to hire him as a lapdog.” 

Michael choked on his water while Gabriel flushed. “I like it,” he said defensively. 

“Then that’s all that matters,” Lucifer said warmly. “Balthy?” 

“I’m ‘The Protector’,” Balthazar announced. “ _ With eyes the color of the sea after the storm and an accent to fulfill those foreign need, this strapping young man is here to take you to Paradise City.”  _

“Thank God you didn’t mention his age,” Michael breathed. 

“I’m not  _ that  _ stupid, Michael,” Chuck said plaintively. “I graduated college. With a degree.” 

“You passed with a 2.98 GPA,” Michael said blithely. 

“And your grade point averages?” he asked his sons. 

“3.98,” Michael said proudly. 

“3.85,” Lucifer added. 

“4.0,” Raphael said quietly. 

“3.5,” Gabriel said. 

“3.65,” Balthazar said. 

“You don’t count,” the oldest four said in unison.

“You’re not in college yet,” Gabriel added.

Balthazar rolled his eyes. His annoyance was gone when Gabriel handed him a candy apple lollipop as a peace offering.

“This won’t interfere with our studies, correct?” Michael asked. “This is my senior year, this is the year that counts on grad school applications.” 

“No, it will not,” Chuck said. “I just want you guys to be able to have a little extra money to spend going out with friends and making sure that the family runs smoothly.” 

“I only have one request,” Raphael said softly. “That Castiel remains in the dark about what we do.” 

The other four nodded in agreement. 

“I can agree to that,” Chuck said. “And I’m going to insist on protection. Are you guys in on this?” 

They exchanged looks with each other, silently communicating. Chuck waited. 

Once they all reached a decision, Michael nodded. “We are.” 

Chuck smiled. “Thank you boys. Bring it in?” 

They all hugged their father joyfully. The prospect of new clothes, especially for Balthazar and Castiel, who didn’t know what that was like, was exciting. 

 

It took a few months before everyone got their bearings straight on the whole prostitution deal, but by Christmas that year, they were just happy with being able to give each other gifts, and watching Castiel curl up in the window (which had new curtains, thanks to Balthazar’s recent obsession with interior design) to read his books was a feeling that none of them could replace. 

Chuck kept his word and made sure that none of the people who bought his sons were deranged in any way, shape or form. That didn’t mean that there wasn’t rough sex; Lucifer especially tended to come home bruised and with a dazed smile on his face. But no one that could kill or seriously harm his sons. He loved them. 

Michael passed his LSATs with a 175, and they all treated him to a nice, expensive briefcase for him to use at law school.

There was more celebrations for birthdays as well. Michael’s January birthday, through to Castiel’s August birthday, was times of great celebration. 

They all had come up with a three way cut. A third went to the family, to pay for bills. A third went to a private fund for Castiel, a college fund so that Castiel wouldn’t have to worry about it. And a third went to them. 

Slowly, over the next two years, that all changed. Michael was in law school, second year, and stressed out because he wanted out, more than anything. It wasn’t as fun for him as it was for the rest of the group, and he just wanted to do  _ actual  _ work. 

Lucifer was on the verge of graduating, having taken on a minor in criminal justice in order to help them disguise their tracks better, as well as an interesting. He didn’t mind the sex work, figuring it would one day make for a good memoir, but he wanted more free time to write. Writer’s block was coming at him more seriously now, and it was aggravating him. 

Raphael was focusing over a year early on his MCATs, studying as furiously as Michael had done to get into a top medical school. Raphael hated how the sex work cut into his time needed for studying and working on his pre-med degree. 

And Gabriel was like Lucifer, on the verge of graduating with his degree in photography, and was just anxious in general. He wanted to go out and photograph things,  _ right then and there,  _ but being a prostitute cut into that. 

Balthazar was about to graduate high school, and wanting to go to school for journalism and work for the New York Times. Or the LA Times. He wasn’t picky. Maybe Washington Post. He was looking at community college first. 

And as Castiel’s sixteenth birthday approached, his five older brothers were apprehensive about what Chuck would do to their precious, innocent baby brother.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Lucifer request something of Chuck, but Chuck is a dick.

It was a week before Castiel’s sixteenth birthday when both Michael and Lucifer slid into their father’s office. Michael had just come home from a client, Lucifer was almost on his way to get meet a client, but this was an urgent situation. 

“Hello, boys,” Chuck said, turning in his chair and looking at his two eldest sons with a smile. For some reason, Michael and Lucifer were rapidly becoming the two most popular Angels of the Night. He could understand Lucifer- the ‘bad boy’ persona he put on was a thing men and women flocked to (although Lucifer has since asked to limit his clients to men, as he was definitely discovering he wasn’t attracted to women at all); and Michael, because Michael was the spitting image of timeless beauty. Still, he thought Balthazar would be the most popular. His eighteenth birthday had just passed, so a lot of clients were begging for the new “not jail bait”. “What can I do for you?” 

“We’re keeping Castiel out of the ring, right?” 

Leave it to Lucifer to come out with it.

Michael sighed. “It would make  _ all  _ of us feel better if he was not exposed to this lifestyle in any way,” he explained. “And  _ especially  _ not at sixteen.” 

“Why not?” Chuck was going to have a talk with Castiel, let him know that this is what his brothers were doing to raise money- he knew the money was coming from  _ somewhere,  _ but no one had told him where it came from- and offer him to join the Angels. “He’ll have the chance to say no.” 

“He won’t say no, Dad,” Lucifer said. “He’s. . . too innocent. He’ll say yes because he thinks he’ll be helping but. . .” he trailed off. 

“We’ll all feel guilty that we’re allowing our baby brother to lose his virginity to the highest bidder on the market,” Michael finished for his brother, wrapping an arm around Lucifer’s shoulders, minding the spiked leather jacket. “And just that Castiel is in this life, period. We all accepted it because we knew of the risks. We know what sex is like. Please, don’t let this be our little brother’s introduction to sex.” 

Chuck sighed. “We need the money, Michael,” he said gently. 

“At least wait until Cas is eighteen,” Lucifer begged. “Let him be a teenager. Don’t let his innocence come so early because of greed. He’s too pure.” 

“I will be making sure that any client who requests Castiel is doubly vetted, only vanilla acts for him,” Chuck promised them. “At least, until he’s ready for kink.” 

“Not at all!” Michael snapped. “This is  _ our  _ baby brother,  _ your  _ youngest son! Not a piece of meat on a butcher’s block!” 

Chuck sighed and rubbed his temples. “I’ve made up my mind, and you  _ will  _ respect it. You don’t have to like it, but you do have to respect it. Castiel will be protected.” His voice was firm, signalling the end of the argument.

Lucifer growled something in German before shrugging Michael’s arm off his shoulder. “I have a client,” he snapped. “Don’t bother saving me a plate, I’m getting a fucking dinner out of this. On the client.” 

“This client the tall, strong handsome guy from last week? Gadreel, was his name?” Michael asked. 

“Yeah,” Lucifer grinned. “I think it’s his way of making up for the fact that he pretty much leaves me bruised and battered.” He winked at Michael, who rolled his eyes before flipping his father off. “And fuck you.” He left. 

Michael followed shortly after, hearing Lucifer roar away on his motorcycle- something he saved up for- before looking at Raphael, Gabriel and Balthazar, giving a slow shake of his head. 

As he wrapped his younger brothers in his arms, the four of them crying silent tears, Michael sent up a simple prayer. 

_ Lord, if you’re listening, please protect Castiel Shurley with your best angels; he needs it. I ask this in Jesus’ name, Amen.  _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel runs; Chuck isn't happy, and Lucifer gets injured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *starts crying*

Gabriel carefully sneaked out of the bedroom he shared with Raphael, his older brother asleep. He didn’t want to wake him. 

He knew where everyone else was. Michael was at the library on campus, trying to study for his last year in law school and for his bar exam. His eldest brother was panicking, as he felt he had had no time to study. Lucifer was passed out on the couch, curled up under the warmest fleece blanket they had. He had had a rough day; three clients all who enjoy seeing Lucifer a little bruised and sore after they were done with him, plus a full day of classes. Balthazar was in the room he shared with Castiel, probably watching porn- Gabriel could hear the soft, pornographic moans echoing through the hallway as he stealthily moved. Chuck was passed out in his own room, having drank himself to sleep. He’d been doing that a whole lot more, especially now that they had the money for it. He apparently was trying a technique called ‘write drunk, edit sober’. Gabriel prayed for his liver. 

And Castiel, sweet innocent Castiel, was off having his virginity taken away from him three days after his sixteenth birthday. 

The guilt overwhelmed Gabriel, and he knew he couldn’t stay here, stay and watch the innocence be gone from Castiel’s face when they sat down at breakfast the next morning. He couldn’t bare to know that his  _ father  _ orchestrated Castiel losing his virginity and having his entire sexual being revolve around being a prostitute. He couldn’t. 

He swore to protect Castiel, and he failed. 

He slipped into the kitchen, over to the file folders that they had set up to leave notes and stuff for each other so they wouldn’t have to worry. He took out a small handful of index cards and slipped them all into their respective folders. He grabbed his own and shoved it into his bag that was filled with clothes, a blanket, some food and water, as well as his camera and phone. The phone, he was going to destroy. Until Castiel was safe- no, until  _ all  _ of his brothers was safe- he didn’t want them to contact him. And most importantly, he didn’t want Chuck contacting him. 

He looked around at his family home and heaved a sigh, tears sliding down his face. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I can’t do it. Forgive me.” 

The only answered he received was a loud snore from Lucifer. 

Gabriel tiptoed back into the living room and observed his older brother, sprawled on the couch. His legs hung over the edge of the couch, and Gabriel could see how large the black eye he had acquired during his bouts of coitus had given him.

He sneaked back into the kitchen and grabbed Lucifer’s favorite kitchen towel, a pale baby blue knitted one that their mother had made him, and grabbed the bag of frozen peas from the freezer. They never used ice packs; frozen vegetables worked just as well. He wrapped the towel around the frozen vegetables before he made his way quietly back into the living room. He gently placed the now cold towel on his brother’s face. Lucifer mumbled in his sleep and curled up onto his side, smooshing the bag of peas into his face. 

Smiling sadly, Gabriel slipped away and checked the time. 

2 AM. 

He needed to leave. Castiel would be home in an hour. 

He shouldered his backpack and quietly left the house, leaving his house key behind. 

He destroyed his cell phone by throwing it into the stream that ran through town about four blocks away from his home, and made his way to the truck stop about a mile outside of town. He had some cash, and all else fails, he did know how to give a good blow job. 

“Hey kid, need a ride?” A trucker gassing up his truck asked. 

Gabriel smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, I could use that,” he said. “Want me to pay for gas?” 

The man waved his hand. “You’re good, kid. Where are you headed?” 

“Far away from here,” Gabriel said immediately. 

The trucker nodded. “Ithaca, New York far enough away for you?” 

Gabriel beamed. “Yes it is.” 

 

“WHERE IS HE?” 

Chuck was not happy. 

“I don’t know!” Michael insisted. “I was at the library all night, trying to study!” 

“He must’ve said  _ something! _ ” Chuck said, throwing his hands up in the air. 

“Well, he didn’t,” Lucifer said. “All of our notes say the same damn thing: ‘I’m sorry. I can’t stay. I love you. Forgive me. Gabriel’.” 

“Is he at school?” Chuck asked. 

“I called the college this morning,” Raphael said softly. “The bursar’s office said that Gabriel withdrew from classes now four days ago, and that he would have received a check.” 

Chuck blew out an explosive breath. 

“He’ll come back,” Balthazar said with certainty. 

Michael and Lucifer exchanged sad glances. They both knew he wouldn’t. 

“Why?” 

Castiel asked the question that everyone else had on their minds. 

“I don’t know, Cassie,” Balthazar said, wrapping a protective arm around the youngest brother. “But it’s no one’s fault. Gabe’s decisions are his own. And he’ll be back.”

“When?” Castiel asked. 

“Knowing him,” Balthazar said fondly, “when we least expect it.” 

Lucifer scowled at Chuck, having the feeling he knew  _ exactly  _ why Gabriel left. The others had the feeling too (except for Chuck), but Lucifer knew Gabriel the best. “Who has clients today, Dad?” 

“I have to reschedule Gabriel’s” Chuck moaned. “We just lost a shitton of income. I’ll be in my office.” He turned and slammed the door to his bedroom. 

Lucifer threw up his hands. “Fuck it. I don’t care. I’m going to class. I have a presentation to do today.” He stepped away from the table, crumpling Gabriel’s note in his hand. Lucifer was angry, furious even, and as he marched towards the garbage can, he twisted his ankle, slipping and falling, hitting his head on the cold tile floor. 

“I think you need to reschedule your presentation,” Michael murmured, kneeling by Lucifer. 

Raphael was kneeling next to Lucifer already, checking him over. “I think he has a concussion.” 

“Let’s get him on the couch, fluids in him,” Michael murmured. 

Lucifer turned to look at Michael, the pale blue eyes looking so much more innocent that Michael’s seen in recent years. “Micha?” 

“Yes, Luci?” Michael asked, brushing Lucifer’s hair from his eyes and making a  _ tsk  _ at the black eye. 

“Is it okay to be mad at Gabriel for running away?” Lucifer asked quietly. 

Michael sighed and nodded. “It is,” he whispered. “But let’s be thankful that he got out of this.” 

“I wish he could’ve taken Cas with him,” Lucifer whispered. 

Raphael nodded. “We all do. Michael’s going to call your lecturer and tell them what happened. I want you to drink plenty of fluids, I’ll make you some pastatina, and try not to fall asleep.” 

“What if I do?” Lucifer whispered. 

“Then I’ll wake you up or have someone wake you up every hour to make sure you’re okay. If you’re not, we’re going to have to go to the hospital.” 

Lucifer nodded. “Okay.” 

“We’ll get through this, Luci,” Michael soothed. “Castiel, the bus will be here any moment, you feeling okay to go to school?” 

Castiel frowned thoughtfully before nodding. “I think so,” he said. 

“Alright,” Michael said. “Then get going.” 

Castiel got up, and in an unexpected display of affection, hugged his eldest brother. Michael smiled and hugged his baby brother and kissed the top of his head. “Off to class.” 

“Can you call me at lunch and tell me how Lucifer is?” Castiel asked, giving his brother a hug of his own, awkwardly on the couch. 

“Of course,” Raphael said. 

“Balthy, you gotta get going too,” Michael chided. 

“Senior year, so fucking glad for it,” Balthazar breathed.  

“We all are,” Michael laughed. “Off you two go.” 

They waved good bye and Michael looked at Raphael. “Your schedule?” 

“I’ve got a client at 8 tonight,” Raphael said softly, “but no classes. I’ll take care of Lucifer. You?” 

“I’ve got to go to the library and work on my thesis,” Michael sighed, “and I have a class at two and a client at six.” 

Raphael nodded. “I hope Father doesn’t do anything drastic.”

“You and me both, little brother,” Michael whispered. “You and me both.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, and Balthazar bear the consequences of Gabriel running; and rebellion begins

As a result of Gabriel leaving the home, Chuck decided in order to make sure that there was plenty of income coming into the family, everyone but Castiel was going to take on more clients. No one liked this, although they were thankful that their baby brother would be spared for now. Castiel intensely disliked the work, as it turned out, but he continued because he had the feeling there was no getting out. 

Michael dropped out of law school two months after Gabriel left, his client load too much to handle. That night was the only night that anyone had ever seen the normally put together, only drinks alcohol at holidays law student get absolutely wasted, complete with screaming at Chuck that he had officially ruined his life and he hopes his father was happy with that. Chuck, internally, was pleased that Michael had dropped out; it freed up his schedule more and he hoped that it would make the holier-than-thou attitude his eldest son tended to have disappear. He would never say that to Michael’s face, though. 

Lucifer dropped out of school after Michael, one semester away from graduating. He came home the first day of Christmas break and shoved the withdrawal form in front of Chuck’s face. 

“I hope this is worth it to you, you drunk bastard,” Lucifer hissed as he shoved his father hard. “Because it’s not to me. Fuck you. Fuck you and everything you stand for. Merry fucking Christmas. There’s your fucking present.” 

Chuck sighed internally and as Michael drew his brother away with soft murmurs of promises to get Lucifer a stiff drink, he wondered what he did wrong once more. One day, Lucifer would understand. He was certain of that.

Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, and Balthazar began rebelling in their own ways. Michael would often not give the money that he owed to Chuck right away, and only then a small portion, insisting that Castiel’s college fund was more important than the booze that Chuck was imbibing on with increasing regularity. Chuck nearly had a heart attack when Lucifer came home with a large tattoo of angel wings down his back that most definitely cost several hundred dollars. Chuck hated the idea of tattoos, and from the flinty look in Lucifer’s eyes while Chuck yelled at him for defiling his body, Lucifer was just going to get more. Raphael subtly started refusing clients, or only going to clients that didn’t ask for penetration. However, that was because, as he told Lucifer privately, he learned that he was asexual, and sex actually disgusted him a great deal. Lucifer told Raphael to never tell their father, fearful of what he may do if he learned Raphael wasn't a sexual being. Raphael agreed, and just said whenever Chuck asked why he didn't want penetrative clients little lies, such as he thought he was getting hemorrhoids.  Balthazar somehow managed to convince any client of his to start buying him booze, and would come back from a client piss drunk, as if to fling in their father’s face what he was doing. Chuck didn’t truly appreciate the hypocrisy of yelling at Balthazar for being drunk, when that was the normal state of being he was in. 

They rebelled, hard, but as long as there was some cash flow coming in for booze, the occasional hooker, and the bills, Chuck didn’t care. Kids rebel; although he thought that Michael at 25 and Lucifer at 23 rebelling to the extremes that they were doing was ridiculous. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raphael meets a man with a mind similar to his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *continues crying*

Raphael rolled out his neck and hugged his textbook close to him as he walked over to the door of hotel room number 2345, thankfully  _ not  _ the corner room. Lucifer and him liked unsolved crime mysteries, and too many involved a corner room, especially with strange, bizarre causes of death. As usual, he checked the entrances and exits and mentally planned two escape routes before he knocked three times. 

“Who is it?” a very prim, English male voice sounded through the door. 

Raphael swallowed and kept his voice steady. “You told me you wanted a healer, sir?” he asked. 

There was the sounds of a cane and footsteps, before the door opened and Raphael was face to face with a tall, gaunt man, dressed in a simple black suit and tie. His hair was neatly combed back, and the simple cane he carried in his right hand. “You are the healer?” he asked. 

Raphael nodded. “Yes, Sir,” he said softly. He had always been the shyest out of his brothers, having been overshadowed by “Golden Child” Michael and “Bad Boy” Lucifer. 

“Come in,” the man said, stepping aside, and Raphael slipped in, clutching the book tighter to his chest. “Sit down, Healer, I’d like to speak with you.” 

Raphael relaxed a little bit. Part of the reason why he started taking less “penetrative” clients was so he could study. He didn’t want his dreams of becoming a medical examiner to die in the dust, like Michael’s dream of being a lawyer and Lucifer’s of an author. Thinking of his brothers made him heave a sigh. 

He sat down on one of the beds and the tall man sat down on the other, facing him. “You seemed like this isn’t something you want to do,” he observed. 

Raphael blinked. What should he do? True, he hated this job, had for a while now, but it was a job. It brought in money. And if he went back and he got a bad review. . . he doesn’t want to think about what his father would do to him. He didn’t know the man. He didn’t know his intentions. “I like my job,” he said with a bitter taste in his mouth. 

“Don’t bother attempting to lie, Healer, you’re not very good at it,” the man said. 

Dammit. He was bad at lying- the worst at it, except for maybe Castiel. The man was right. Maybe he was honestly wondering so he could alter what he wanted to do with Raphael before they got into it. So he sighed. “I’d rather be studying. I’m supposed to graduate this semester and I need to study for the MCAT,” he explained. 

“Pre-med?” the man asked. 

Raphael nodded. “I want to become a medical examiner,” he said. “My brothers have already had to drop out of school and abandon their dreams because of the job, and I don’t want to be like them.” 

“Your brothers? You’re all. . . brothers?” the man asked in surprise. 

Raphael nodded. 

“I take it you boys have a pimp?” It sounded so strange to hear such a vile word issued from the man’s pale lips. 

Raphael swallowed. “Our father. We started doing this as a way to make sure we could pay the bills, but our father’s gone insane.” 

“How many are there of you?”

“There was six,” Raphael admitted, “Including myself. But one of my younger brothers ran away. I can’t say that I blame him, but I’m still angry that he did.” 

“Do you know why he did?” the man asked, laying his cane across his lap.

Raphael nodded. “It was the night my youngest brother entered the ‘family business’,” he explained, “And I think he was overwhelmed with guilt. He withdrew from college, packed up his stuff, and left. In the middle of the night.” 

“How old is your youngest brother?” 

Raphael swallowed. “Sixteen,” he admitted. 

“Your father is  _ selling  _ a sixteen year old’s body?” the man sounded scandalized. 

Raphael nodded. “He did it with another brother, the brother before the youngest,” he added, “but that brother was already. . . well, rather promiscuous. But my baby brother. . .” Raphael shook his head. “So innocent. We begged my father to not let him join us; we didn’t want this life for him. But Father insisted. And when my brother ran away, everyone but our baby brother got more clients. My eldest two had to drop out of grad school and college, and they were about to graduate this upcoming semester.” 

The man took a deep breath and shook his head. “What’s your name?” he asked. 

“Raphael,” Raphael said. 

The man’s lips quirked into a semblance of a smile. “Did your father deliberately name you as ‘the Healer’?” he asked. 

Raphael nodded, rolling his eyes. “We all got something like that,” he admitted. 

“Would you mind telling me your brother’s names?” 

“Michael’s the eldest,” Raphael sighed, “he was only half a year from graduating law school and preparing for the bar.” 

“I take it he was ‘the Soldier of God’?” 

Raphael nodded, smiling. “Lucifer’s next. He was a semester away from graduating with a degree in English with a minor in criminal justice.” 

“The Devil, then,” the man said. 

“Lucifer’s not that bad,” Raphael said. “He’s the most sensitive. He got the Devil nickname because he has issues with authority and his snarky mouth gets him into more trouble than he expects.” 

The man couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s a facade, then.” 

“Very much so,” Raphael said. “I’m next. Next is Gabriel, and he’s the one who ran off.” He sighed, missing his sugar addicted younger brother. “I hope he’s okay, we haven’t heard from him in six months.” 

“I’m sure he’s okay,” the man assured him. 

“Balthazar is next,” Raphael continued. “He’s been in since he was sixteen, and he’s about to graduate high school. He wants to go to school for journalism.”

“The Protector?” the man inquired. 

“Should really be changed to either The Wino or The Threesomer,” Raphael groaned. 

The man chuckled. 

“Last is Castiel,” Raphael sighed. “My innocent baby brother who wants to be a beekeeper/librarian.” 

“That would be ‘The Pure’, then.” The man sighed. “How long has this been going on?” 

“Two years, just a little more,” Raphael said. “We thought it would be better than this. The first six months to year was fine, in all honesty. It wasn’t until it got closer to Castiel’s sixteenth birthday that it really stopped being fun.” 

“Do any of your brothers like it?” 

“Lucifer and Balthazar did,” Raphael admitted, “But Lucifer’s tired of having writer’s block all the time and it doesn’t help that he, um, tends to like it rough. Balthazar enjoys it more now but that’s because he manages to convince his clients to get him drunk.” 

“Where is your boys’ mother?” the man wondered. 

Raphael closed his eyes against the memory. “She left, when I was thirteen. She ran off on our father. I can’t say that I blame her; Father’s a writer, or he thinks he is. He hasn’t had anything published  _ ever _ , he just doesn’t have a gift for it. Lucifer does, and I know he’s jealous of Lucifer.”

The man nodded. “Do you want to continue this life?” 

Raphael shook his head. “Part of my rebellion is refusing to accept clients who ask for, um, penetration,” he admitted. “It’s partly academic and partly, well, um. . .” 

The man waited patiently for Raphael to say what was next. 

“I’ve done some research, and I think I’m asexual,” Raphael said softly. “At the very least, demisexual. And I don’t think my father would take too kindly to that.” 

“Do any of your brothers know that you feel this way?” the man asked. 

“Lucifer,” Raphael admitted. “I asked him how he knew he was gay; and how he came out to Father. And I know he would’ve told Michael- they’re thick as thieves, even if they argue a lot.” 

“I can understand how you feel your father wouldn’t like that,” the man said calmly. 

“He flipped when Lucifer got a tattoo,” Raphael admitted. “We’re all rebelling, except for Castiel. I don’t think he knows  _ how  _ to.” 

The man sighed and checked his watch. 

“What’s your name?” Raphael asked politely. 

“They call me Death,” the man replied blandly, “but my actual name is Julian Richings. I’m a mortician a few towns over.” 

“Really?” Raphael beamed. “Do you like it?” 

Julian nodded, a small smile on his face. “You like the concept of death?” he asked. 

“Father’s always described me as a ‘morbid’ child,” Raphael admitted. “But there’s something endlessly fascinating about it. And I’m a bit shy; it’s really this and unsolved crimes that get me excited. And I can only talk to Lucifer about the unsolved crimes. Never about pathology or death rituals or anything like that.” He looked away sadly, “I’m the only one in my class who wants to go into pathology.” 

Julian nodded in understanding.  

“Why did you hire me?” Raphael asked curiously. “Forgive me for being bold, but you look  _ too  _ far high end to be hiring a Craigslist whore.” 

“Please refrain from referring to yourself and your brothers by derogatory terms,” Julian said calmly, yet with a note of finality. “And you can be bold. I tend to hire  _ escorts,  _ as I call them, for companionship, never for sexual favors.” He gave a smile. He had a nice smile. “I share your loathing of sexual activities.” 

Raphael nodded, smiling more happily. This man was more like him than he’d ever thought he could be. 

“I’d like to save your brothers as well, but I want to save you first,” Julian said. “Do you want out of your father’s house?” 

“Please,” Raphael nearly begged. “I don’t think I can handle until I graduate doing this. He’s already frustrated that I don’t bring in as much money as my brothers, because I refuse penetration.”

“Here is what I want you to do,” Julian said. He withdrew a slim, black wallet from somewhere inside his long suitcoat. “Go home, pack as many clothes, books, and personal belongings as you can. If your father asks, tell him that I’d like to keep you for the weekend.” 

“And I just won’t go home ever?” Raphael asked hopefully. 

Julian nodded. “I can ensure you get to your classes, and if you want, I can teach you the art of being a mortician.” 

“I would love that!” Raphael said excitedly. “Thank you,  _ thank you,  _ Mr. Richings.” 

“You may call me Julian,” Julian said with a smile. He handed Raphael a large sum of money; Raphael didn’t dare count it, but he estimated it was about seven hundred dollars, what Lucifer would typically earn for one client. “Run along, now.” 

Raphael couldn’t help it, he flung himself at the old man and hugged him tight. Tears filled his eyes. He may never see his brothers again, but at least he was going to be free. 

Julian hugged him back before patting his shoulder. “Hurry.” 

Raphael ran home, excited. The cold January air kissed his cheeks, and he slid into his house and ran to his bedroom, grabbing his favorite clothes, his textbooks and his notebooks, and the few gifts his brothers have been giving him. Anything Chuck had given him, he left. 

“Raphe?”    
Raphael turned to look at Lucifer. Dark bruises covered his brother’s throat. “What’s going on?” Lucifer rasped. 

“Shit, Luce!” Raphael swore, running over to check on his brother. “Are you okay?” 

“Are you leaving us?” Lucifer sounded heartbroken. He and Raphael were the closest in age, barely a year separating them, but they were still somewhat close. After all, it was always Lucifer who protected him and the others from bullies. 

“I have the opportunity to,” Raphael whispered. “The client. . . he’s going to take care of me. He’s a mortician and he’s ace, he’s like me except. . . white and English. And old.” 

Lucifer snorted. “We’ll miss you.” 

Raphael shoved the wad of bills Julian gave him into Lucifer’s hand. “Where’s Father?” 

“Liquor store,” Lucifer whispered. 

“Tell Father that the client liked me so much, that he’s keeping me for the weekend,” Raphael murmured. “I’m sorry, Luce. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending that I like sex. It disgusts me.” Tears filled his eyes. “I don’t want to leave, but I have to.” 

Lucifer hugged his brother close and kissed the top of his head. “Fly, little chickadee,” he murmured. “Go. Get away from this. Me and Mikey and Balthy and Cassie will be alright. Just. . . stay in touch. Please.” 

Raphael hugged his brother for the last time. “I will,” he promised. 

“You get your degree,” Lucifer whispered. “You chase your dreams. You take care of yourself, mind your manners, and for the love of God, never return to this house. You be the best version of Raphael Shurely that you can be.” 

Raphael hugged Lucifer tightly. “I’ll make you proud,” he promised. 

“You already do,” Lucifer said fondly. He reached over onto Raphael’s bookcase and grabbed the picture of their mom and Raphael, when Raphael was twelve. “Don’t forget this.” 

Raphael nodded and slowly withdrew from Lucifer’s embrace, taking the picture. “I won’t,” he whispered, knowing that that was his brother’s way of saying  _ don’t forget about us. _ He slipped the picture into the duffle bag and slung it over his shoulder, looking around his bedroom. “I’ll see you soon, Lucifer.” 

“And I’ll see you soon, chickadee,” Lucifer smiled. “Now go, before you make your tough older brother cry.” 

“You cry during the Notebook,” Raphael scoffed, “You’re not as tough as you think you are.” Smiling, hoping to soothe the ache in his heart, he left his home and returned to the hotel room that Julian was at, ready to start his life. 

 

“He got out,” Michael breathed in relief. “Oh thank God.” 

Lucifer nodded. “This may mean Castiel works more, though,” he murmured. 

“I don’t think so, even Castiel brought in more than Raphael,” Michael whispered. “But we may get more, and Balthazar too.” 

“We’re strong,” Lucifer said. “We just need to get Balthazar and Castiel to graduation. And then out of the house.” 

Michael nodded and sighed. “I’m supposed to be taking classes, studying for the bar,” he murmured. “We’re supposed to be getting out of here. Luce, what if we’re stuck here? Forever?” 

“If it means our younger brothers are safe,” Lucifer croaked, coughing slightly, “Then I don’t care.” 

Michael nodded. 

 

As predicted, Chuck wasn’t happy that Raphael had been spirited away when Tuesday rolled around and Raphael still hadn’t come home, and it was apparently that he  _ wasn’t  _ ever going to come home, but as Michael predicted, the remaining four’s workload didn’t increase, for which everyone, including Castiel, was thankful for. 

Winter turned to spring, and soon, Balthazar was walking across the stage at his high school graduation. Chuck didn’t come; he was too drunk to do so. The roses given to the seniors to distribute to their parents went to Michael and Lucifer, who was there with Castiel, whistling loudly as Balthazar walked across the stage. 

Raphael sent them pictures of himself walking across the stage, his biology with an emphasis in pre-med bachelor’s degree in his hand, his MCAT score, and his acceptance letter into John Hopkins School of Medicine. The quartet pooled their money to send Raphael a large bouquet of flowers and a Rolex for while Raphael was preparing for his internships. Julian Richings also wrote a note to the brothers, saying that he will make sure Raphael will never want for anything while he was in school, wanting to make sure that the young man got the best life he could and thanked them for trusting him to take care of Raphael. He also expressed his hope that the four would find their own ways out, saying that none of them deserved this life. Lucifer was the one who wrote back, thanking Julian for rescuing his younger brother and providing him with the opportunity to graduate and do the best that he can, considering the circumstances. He also thanked Julian for being a role model for Raphael as his younger brother continued to figure out his sexual orientation and told him that he’s sorry that he couldn’t protect Raphael. Julian’s reply was kind, firm, and told Lucifer not to blame himself, that Raphael spoke highly of his two eldest brothers for caring for him and advised Lucifer that he should focus on himself. 

The letters and pictures from Raphael and Julian were never shown to Chuck, and Chuck never knew that Raphael was corresponding with his remaining four sons. 

The summer months were sweltering, which saw Lucifer and Castiel in the garden, coaxing flowers and bees respectively; and Michael sighing wistfully at the mere mention of the bar exams approaching at the end of July. Balthazar was in summer school at the community college, working on his journalism degree. 

Their work picked up in the summer; more people were going on business vacations and would want one of the four to accompany them. 

That summer saw Castiel getting more work, especially after he turned seventeen in early August; he had taken after his eldest brother in having a voice that made people want to obey, and it was deeper, rough, making him sound older. He also started working more with Balthazar, figuring that the best way for a brother protecting him was to accompany him. Balthazar was delighted, and made sure that clients knew that he and Castiel would not be touching each other. Occasionally, Castiel would accompany Michael, but never Lucifer. Lucifer refused, saying he wouldn’t be able to stay out of his headspace to make sure Castiel wasn’t getting the same treatment that he was. It was his own way of protecting his baby brother, and everyone understood. Instead, Castiel took over Raphael’s role and made sure that Lucifer was okay after a client.

Michael and Lucifer conspired in the dark together, trying to figure out for another year and a half after Raphael left how to get Balthazar and Castiel out. Especially Castiel. They were resigned to spending the rest of their lives as prostitutes, but their brothers had futures, and they were going to nurture that, even if their own father couldn’t.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel and Balthazar get free; Michael and Lucifer's lives go to Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *crying intensifies*

Balthazar picked Castiel up from school one blustery November day. “We’ve got a client,” he said. 

“Together?” Castiel asked as he fell in step beside his older brother. 

“Mhm,” Balthazar hummed. “Client told Dad he wanted two, that he’d be willing to pay for two. I guess he’s got a brother or a friend that’s coming in and thought it’d be in poor taste to not share in the spoils.” 

“So it’s basically a two for one deal,” Castiel said. 

“Yeah,” Balthazar said. “Dad said there’d be no touching between us and the client said that was okay. I’m gonna guess that the client’s from somewhere in the deep south, though.” 

“Care to share why you think that?” Castiel asked politely. 

Balthazar chuckled. “He called Dad ‘chief’.” 

Castiel blinked, before giggling softly. “Seriously??” 

“Seriously,” Balthazar giggled with his younger brother. “Any news from chickadees?” 

Castiel nodded. “Raphael said classes are challenging, but fun, and he’s enjoying himself. Julian makes sure that he’s well taken care of and that Raphael has spending money. He has his own apartment.” 

Balthazar smiled. “What about from pigeons?” 

Castiel looked around before murmuring, “I thought I saw him.” 

“Really?” Balthazar whispered. “Here?” 

Castiel nodded, excited. “If it’s him, he’s filled out a little bit and was looking like he was glowing,” he whispered. “And I saw another man with him. Short, well dressed, and they were holding hands.” 

“Maybe the pigeon’s come back with a mate?” Balthazar asked. 

“I don’t know,” Castiel said. “But why would he come back? It’s been two years. Almost.” 

“Maybe he’s come back to free us?” Balthazar asked. “I don’t know. C’mon, we’re almost to the hotel.” 

Castiel shifted his backpack on his shoulders and nodded, hurrying alongside his brother. 

They found the door easily enough- that was the beauty of hotel rooms having doors that lead outside,plus it was the only one that had the ‘do not disturb’ placard outside- and they knocked as one. 

“Who is it?” An unmistakably Southern accent sounded through the door. 

“Well, that depends,” Balthazar drawled. “Do you need some protecting?” 

“Or is it someone pure you’re after?” Castiel asked, smirking at Balthazar. “Have you ever realized how cheesy our lines are?” 

“Lucifer’s is the worst,” Balthazar whispered. “‘Did you ask for a dance with the devil?’” he mocked. 

Castiel snorted indelicately before the door opened. 

The man was tall, and broad, enough to make Castiel internally whine. He really was one of those guys who went after “bulky” guys. Not that he knew what dating was like or anything. He did hate this job, but he couldn’t deny that sex was good. And the bigger the guy, the better. 

Balthazar also liked what he saw as well. Maybe not as much as his baby brother, but he did. 

The man whistled. “You two sure look pretty,” he complimented. “C’mon in.” 

Castiel blushed and Balthazar stepped in with a smirk. “Why, thank you,” he said, Castiel stepping in beside his brother, closing the door behind them. “I take it the other member of our  _ menage a quatre _ isn’t here yet?” 

“That’s right. He’ll be in soon, though.” The man stuck his hand out. “Name’s Benny.” 

“I’m the Protector,” Balthazar said, “And my blushing bride of a brother is the Pure.” 

Castiel rolled his eyes. “I can introduce myself,” he insisted. 

Benny chuckled and sat down on the bed. “I’d prefer ta know your real names,” he said. “Wanna give my praises to a name, not an idea.” 

Balthazar and Castiel exchanged looks, obviously wondering if they should. Maybe this was a sign that they should get out. 

“I’m Balthazar,” Balthazar said quietly. 

“My name is Castiel,” Castiel said just as softly. 

“Balthazar and Castiel,” Benny rolled the names on the tip of his tongue. “You got other brothers?” 

“There’s six of us,” Balthazar said. “And we’re the two youngest.” 

Benny narrowed his eyes. “How young?” 

Balthazar swallowed. “I’m eighteen,” he said. “I turn nineteen in February.” 

Castiel looked down and shuffled his feet across the floor. He didn’t like giving his age; he noted that a lot of clients would try to take advantage of how young he was to do things he wasn’t comfortable with. And because Castiel was a people pleaser, he’d often go along with it. 

“Chief,” Benny said gently. “‘S alright. I ain’t gonna judge. Ain’t my place.” 

Castiel nodded. “I’m seventeen,” he whispered. “I won’t turn eighteen until next August.”

Benny took a deep breath and shook his head. “Who rents out pretty teenagers?” 

“Our dad,” Balthazar said blandly. “It’s been going on for, what, two years now?” 

Castiel shook his head. “We might as well say it’s been three, almost four years,” he said. “You guys started when I was fourteen.” 

“That’s right,” Balthazar said. He looked at Benny. “We’re dirt poor,” he explained. “Our mom ran off when I was nine and Cassie was seven. Dad was at his wit’s end with four kids in college and one eyeing up law school.” He shrugged. 

Benny nodded, frowning. “And are all six of you still init?” he asked. 

Castiel shook his head. “Our brother, Gabriel, ran away,” he said. “Because of me.” 

“ _ No, _ ” Balthazar insisted. “He did  _ not  _ leave because of you. He ran because he thought he failed at protecting you.” 

“Same thing,” Castiel sighed. It was an old argument. “He left the night I lost my virginity, it makes sense.” 

“No it doesn’, chief,” Benny said gently, reaching out to take Castiel’s hand. “Who else got out?” 

“Raphael,” Balthazar said. “Someone is taking care of him.” He looked at Castiel. “We’re okay. We got each other.” 

“Joined at the hip,” Castiel said with a weak sort of fondness. “And we got Michael and Lucifer. They take good care of us.” 

“Better care than Dad ever did, anyways,” Balthazar said. 

Benny swore and shook his head. “Do you boys like the job?” 

“It’s okay,” Balthazar said. “We get paid well, and it’s nice to have money to buy presents and stuff. The oldest five of us even got a college fund together for Cassie. Our eldest brothers are insistent on giving us a future.”

Castiel nodded. “Michael and Lucifer are rather popular,” he said quietly. 

“Why’s that?” Benny asked gently. 

“Mike’s popular because he’s got that real, calm voice that demands to be listened to,” Balthazar explained. “And Luci. . .” 

“Lucifer’s a slut,” Castiel said bluntly. 

“ _ Castiel! _ ” Balthazar choked, scandalized. 

“He  _ is _ ,” Castiel insisted. 

Benny coughed. “Mind explainin’ that one t’me, angel?” 

A thrill ran through Castiel at the moniker. “Lucifer enjoys very rough, dominating sex,” Castiel explained. “He especially likes coming home with bruises and marks, and he markets exclusively to male clientele.” He looked at Balthazar. “He calls himself a slut, so it must be okay.” 

Balthazar chuckled and looked at Benny. “Even after a year on the job, he’s still my innocent baby brother.” 

Benny chuckled, shaking his head. “Is Lucifer, er, in his right mind when he says this?” 

Castiel pondered that. A year of taking care of Lucifer in Raphael’s place taught him a lot about his bad boy of a brother. “Not really,” Castiel admitted. “To be honest, I think he’s ashamed that he likes it so rough.” 

Benny nodded. “I’m inclined to agree with your brothers, if you boys have futures best to make sure you got those futures. You still in school, Balthazar?” 

Balthazar nodded. “Community college,” he admitted. “Journalism major.” 

“And your brothers?” 

“Michael has a four year,” Castiel said quietly. “But he hasn’t finished law school. He was a semester away.”

“And Lucifer was a semester away from getting his own four year,” Balthazar added. “Lucifer’s like a mother hen with us, in all honesty.” 

Benny sighed and looked at them. “Does your dad treat you well?” 

Balthazar rocked his hand back and forth. “Not the best,” he admitted. “He usually leaves us to our own devices. He’s a ‘writer’.” He put quotes around ‘writer’, with Castiel doing air quotes.

Benny thought to himself that Castiel may be the cutest thing in creation. “I take it not a very good one.” 

“He’s never gotten a thing published,” Balthazar said. “I’ve written essays drunk better than his novels.” 

Castiel nodded in fervent agreement. “And if you interrupt him while he’s writing. . .” 

“It’s escalated over the years,” Balthazar admitted. “And I don’t think he screens clients as well as he says he does.” 

“Especially with Lucifer,” Castiel whispered. 

Balthazar nodded. “He’s drunk half the time.” He looked down. “He didn’t show up to my high school graduation because he was too drunk to move.” 

Benny clenched his jaw. “That’s. . .” 

“It’s okay,” Balthazar said. “I’m the fifth kid. I’m not as important as Mikey and Luci and Raphe and Gabe.” 

Castiel wrapped an arm around Balthazar’s shoulders. Balthazar had tried hard to emulate Lucifer’s ‘bad boy’ attitude, but he failed at it miserably most of the time.

“You boys need a  _ home, _ ” Benny said. “What’d happen if you two left?” 

“I don’t think Michael and Lucifer would get sleep,” Balthazar said. “When Gabriel ran off, Dad increased everyone’s client loads. They doubled. I think Mikey’s and Luci’s actually tripled. They dropped out of school to meet the demand because Dad was making them skip classes to work.” 

Castiel nodded. “But our brothers would feel better about us going,” he said softly. 

Benny nodded. “I’d hate to take advantage of you boys-” 

“You’re not taking advantage of us,” Balthazar soothed. “We’re of the age of consent. Cassie’s almost a legal adult. We know what we’re doing.” 

“Not what I mean,” Benny said. 

Castiel cast his mind around. “How about,” he said softly, “We stay the night. Your friend comes, we get dinner together, you can persuade Balthazar to not get shitfaced-” 

“Hey!” 

Castiel glared at his older brother. “No.” He turned back to Benny, who was looking at Castiel, “we come back, we sleep together in a completely platonic, non sexualized way. And then you decide in the morning.” He batted his lashes at Benny, giving his best “I’m the Youngest, Look at How Cute I Am” face, a trick he learned from Gabriel. “And if you want to save us, it’s together.” He grabbed Balthazar’s hand. He didn’t think he could bare to be separated from his brother. Not yet at least. He’s lost two brothers already, without being able to say good-bye. Balthazar was the one he was closest to, and Balthazar always made sure he was safe. 

“You drive a good bargain, Castiel,” Benny complimented. 

Castiel grinned. “I’m not as innocent as everyone thinks I am,” he admitted. “Gabriel taught me how to play poker and haggle.” 

Balthazar cackled. “Good ol’ Gabriel,” he cheered. 

Benny grinned. “I think I could be persuaded to do that,” he said. “You’d have to go home and pack a few things.” 

They nodded. “You will be here, right?” Castiel asked, not wanting this slim chance of freedom to slip through his fingertips. 

“Yeah,” Benny said. “Friend will probably arrive. You boys live far from here?” 

“Four blocks,” Castiel said. He looked at Balthazar. “Father won’t be home,” he remarked. 

“Michael and Lucifer will,” Balthazar said. 

Benny nodded. “Tell them I’ll pay your ol’ man for the nigh’,” he said. “An’ go pack your stuff.” He paused. “Now.” 

Balthazar and Castiel stood up and Castiel readjusted the backpack. 

“Leave the books, chief,” Benny said. “I mean it.” 

Castiel slowly surrendered his backpack. Benny took it and set it on the bed. “Go, you two. I’d like ta eat soon.” 

The idea of a meal made Balthazar and Castiel run out of the motel and to their home, barely out of breath. 

Lucifer was asleep on the couch, and Michael was most likely hiding out in his room, so Balthazar and Castiel went into their rooms and grabbed two duffle bags a piece, packing their clothes, books, and trinkets. Balthazar stuffed his headphones into the duffle bag just as Castiel grabbed his coffee machine.

“Boys?” 

They both turned to see their oldest brother standing in the doorway. Michael looked tired, gaunt even, and Castiel threw the cord for his laptop into the bag before they approached the door as one. 

“You found someone?” he asked softly. 

They nodded. “We’re just worried about you and Luci,” Balthazar admitted. 

Michael smiled sadly. “Knowing that you boys are out of this, and chasing your dreams,” he whispered, “is enough for your brother and I to endure.” 

“Who’ll take care of Lucifer?” Castiel worried. 

Michael smiled. “I will,” he promised. “Lucifer will be safe. I promise.” 

They snuggled into their eldest brother, feeling the warmth and safety of his arms and not wanting to leave it quite yet. 

“Benny said he’ll wire money for us,” Castiel whispered. “So hopefully Dad has his paypal up on the site.” 

“He does,” Michael assured him. “I’ll miss you both, but this is for the best. Especially for you, Castiel. We  _ never  _ wanted this life for you. Never.” 

“I know,” Castiel whispered. “I’m glad I’m getting out.” 

“So am I,” Balthazar said. “I won’t leave him, Michael,” he added. “Not until he shoves me out the door.” 

Castiel smiled softly. “And I won’t be doing that for a long time,” he said softly. 

“I know you’ll take care of each other,” Michael murmured, squeezing them both. “You have your pictures of Mom?” 

They nodded. 

“Good,” Michael said. “Let me go wake up Lucifer. He’ll never forgive me if I didn’t.” 

Castiel and Balthazar reluctantly let Michael go and finished up their packing. 

Lucifer came lumbering in about five minutes later, carrying two large gift bags. “Micha told me you two were breaking free,” he whispered softly. 

Balthazar and Castiel nodded.

“These are for you,” he whispered, handing them to his little brothers. 

They opened them to discover handmade, knitted blankets, the center of them having the birds that Lucifer had nicknamed them. Balthazar’s was full of rich, warm greens and browns and bore a buzzard; Castiel’s was soft greys and whites and had a bluebird on it. 

The two youngest ran their fingers through the soft blanket. 

“Is he a good man, boys?” Lucifer asked. 

They nodded, Castiel flushing. He already had a crush on the smooth talking Cajun accented man who called him angel. Of course, nothing got past Lucifer, but his second oldest brother just chuckled and drew them both into his arms. 

“Balthazar,” Lucifer murmured. “I want you to finish college. Study hard. Get that degree, and go to work. Proper work. Castiel, finish high school. Go to college. Balthazar, do you know what the bank account number to Castiel’s college fund is?” 

Balthazar nodded. “Just deposited some money in yesterday; he’s got well over a million in there.” 

Castiel blinked. A million dollars? For him to go to college? He whined softly. 

“I know,” Lucifer murmured. “We wanted you to be taken care of, and I think we did a good job of that. Study whatever you want, Castiel. Go to whatever college you want. Just. . . stay in touch with Michael and I. Don’t come back.” 

Balthazar and Castiel nodded. “What about you?” Castiel asked. “Will you be okay?” 

Lucifer smiled and kissed Castiel’s forehead. “Don’t worry about me, baby bluebird,” he whispered. “I’m a thick skinned man. I just want you to be safe. That is my priority.” 

They nodded. “I’ll miss you,” Balthazar said softly. “We both will.” 

“And Michael and I will miss you, little buzzard,” Lucifer said affectionately. “Both of you.” He kissed their heads. “Now go.” 

Castiel and Balthazar squeezed Lucifer tight, being mindful of Lucifer’s recent injuries, before slowly withdrawing from his embrace and taking their gift bags over to the duffle bags. They heaved the bags over their shoulders and began heading out. 

“They’ll be okay, right?” Castiel asked as they headed back to the hotel with their world in two or three neat bags. 

Balthazar nodded. “They’ll be as okay as anyone, I guess,” he said. “Someone will rescue them.” 

Castiel nodded. 

When they arrived at the hotel, Benny’s friend answered the door. “You two must be the boys we’re saving,” he said. 

Balthazar nodded. Distantly, they could hear the shower running and Benny whistling “In the Hall of the Mountain King”. “We are.” 

“Well,” the other man said, looking to be closer to Balthazar’s age, “good. I’m Samandriel.” 

“Religious parents?” Balthazar asked. 

“You must be Balthazar,” Samandriel said with a smile. 

“That’s right,” Balthazar said. 

“Which means you’re Castiel.” Samandriel smiled. “You look sad, Castiel.”

“I’m leaving my brothers behind,” Castiel said, “And one is injured.” 

Balthazar reached down and squeezed Castiel’s hand. “Luci will be fine,” he murmured. “Just have faith.” 

“I’ve almost forgot what that feels like,” Castiel said. 

Samandriel gently took the gift bag out of Castiel’s hand and took both in his own. “I could pray with you, if you want.” 

Castiel smiled. “I’d like that,” he whispered. 

 

Chuck was  _ definitely  _ angry that he lost not one, but  _ two  _ of his sons. The workload for both Michael and Lucifer increased, and he banned them from cell phones, afraid that they may try to call for help. 

Michael tried to take care of Lucifer the best he could, but unable to do as much as Castiel or Raphael. Not because he was any less competent, but because he had no  _ time. _ They were both taking anywhere from four to eight clients a day, and it was starting to really wear on them. 

Lucifer especially started losing weight. Any money he had went to tattoos and piercings. By the time two years since Balthazar and Castiel took off, Lucifer’s back, thighs, and arms were covered in tattoos; he had a piercing in the bridge of his nose (an attempt to detract from the amount of times it had been broken), two lip piercings, both of his nipples, and his ballsack pierced. Chuck tried to cut Lucifer off by not giving him money, but that didn’t work, as Lucifer knew how to squirrel money away from his father and put it it in a bank account. 

Michael lost weight and he also began getting tattoos. Chuck finally gave up, realizing that preventing his two eldest sons from getting tattooed and, in Lucifer’s case, pierced, was futile. It also had the added bonus of Lucifer and Michael earning more money, as more and more clients leaned towards “tattooed” men.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel returns

It had been far too long since Gabriel had returned to the town he grew up in, this time armed with a degree, a few small photographer’s awards, a large, spacious house, a doting husband, and money to spare. Almost five years had passed, and the town really hadn’t changed. 

He stalked his former home, hoping to see glimpses of his brothers. He knew his father wouldn’t recognize him; he was no longer slender, but now had meat on his bones (he blamed Crowley’s excellent kitchen) and his hair was longer, and he was often dressed now in jeans and bomber jackets that should have gone out of style years ago. 

One day, a month after they moved to the area, Crowley joined him, bringing him coffee and bagels for them to share. 

Crowley nodded at the somewhat rundown house Gabriel grew up in after a time. “That’s where you grew up?” he asked. 

Gabriel nodded, swallowing. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s where I kept my bike, that’s the garden Luci and Cassie made, there’s the tire swing Raphael and I made for Balthy and Cassie.” he sighed. 

“Seen anyone?” Crowley asked. 

“Dad, a few times, looking so much worse than before,” Gabriel said. “He’s hit the bottle really hard. I think the rejections are really getting to him.” 

Crowley nodded in agreement. 

“I’ve seen Mikey once,” Gabriel said, “And Luci two or three times now. They look  _ awful. _ ” 

“Awful how?” Crowley asked. 

“Thin, rail thin,” Gabriel sighed. “It looks good on Mikey but not on Luci. They’re both tatted now. Mikey had come home without a shirt and there was a tattoo of a mountain landscape from shoulder to shoulder. And I think he’s got a cross on the inside of an arm. Lucifer’s just. . . . covered. Wings on his back, with the bottommost feathers singed and burned, he’s got the Chinese character for  _ justice  _ underneath his ear, he’s got a snake on his pec, and he has fucking  _ sleeves. _ And he’s pierced. Nips, nose, lips. . . I wouldn’t be surprised if there was more tattoos and piercings below the belt. And Lucifer looks like he’s beat regularly.” 

Crowley raised a brow. 

“Luci’s always said it’s consensual, that he likes it rough,” Gabriel said. “But. . .I’ve always wondered.”

“Wondered how much of it is?” Crowley asked. 

Gabriel nodded. 

“How old are they now?” Crowley asked. 

Gabriel thought as he took a long sip of his coffee. “I’m three years younger than Luci,” he said. “I left when Lucifer was twenty three. . . He turns twenty seven June 21.” 

“And Michael?” 

“Twenty nine,”Gabriel blew out a breath. “I hope Raphael, Balthazar, and Castiel are okay.”

“They are, pumpkin,” Crowley said, tugging Gabriel closer to him. “If they’re not in that hellhole, they are. You’ve stalked this house every day for a month now. And you haven’t seen them. Maybe they got away.” 

“What are we going to do, Lee?” Gabriel asked his husband of two years softly. 

“We’ll work something out, pumpkin,” Crowley said. He grew up in a not as fun home environment himself, although he attributed that to his mother always having her coven over for witchy things that eventually lead to massive orgies. But he’d rather live under Rowena’s roof than Chuck’s. He spied a tall, thin, heavily tattooed man limping down the street, towards the house that they’d been watching. “Is that one of ‘em?” he asked. 

Gabriel squinted and nodded. “It’s Luci,” he whispered. “Dear God.” 

Lucifer limped into the yard, obviously in pain, and even though it was April and a warm day, Lucifer seemed to be shivering. 

“We’ll get Mikey and Luci out, right?” Gabriel asked, watching his second oldest brother limp into the house. 

Crowley nodded. “I promise. And we’ll bring your father down.” 

Gabriel curled into Crowley. “Good.” 

“Eat your bagel,” Crowley murmured. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael escapes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *INTENSE CRYING*

Michael took a deep breath and slowly let it out, closing his eyes. He hated this part of being an ‘Angel of the Night’ the most, if he was honest. Everyone else’s signature lines that were subtle to let the client know that the prostitute that they had hired were perfectly normal, if a little naughty. He couldn’t come up with any, beyond “My sword is drawn”. Which sounded lame. He wasn’t good with flowery words anyways. Legalese was a different story. So, he turned to Lucifer for help. And that may’ve been his mistake. 

“Hello?” A young man’s voice echoed through the door. 

Taking another deep breath, Michael replied with, “I’ve been listening to your prayers. Delightfully sinful. Care if I answer them?”

He could tell he was blushing.  _ Fucking Lucifer.  _ His brother had the cruelest smirk when he said this, and Michael took it. 

The door opened to reveal a gorgeous young man, about Lucifer’s age, with sandy hair, emerald eyes, and  _ freckles everywhere. _ His full pink lips were in a laughing smile. “Dude, that’s bad,” he chuckled. “I mean, I know I asked for ‘the Soldier of God’ but  _ still _ .” He stepped back and allowed Michael entry into the hotel room. 

“My associate, the Devil, came up with it,” Michael said. When in doubt, blame Lucifer. “It was better than ‘my sword is drawn’.” 

The man snorted. “You might be right about that.” He gestured towards the fridge. “Want anything to drink before we get started? Your, uh, ‘manager’ said that you have a lot of stamina.” 

Michael nodded. “I do,” he admitted. “And water, please.” He was thirsty- the pipe in the kitchen had broken again, but he and Lucifer hadn’t had anytime to fix it, and he had spent the last of his money to call Castiel.

“I’m Dean,” the man said, opening the fridge and drawing a bottle of water out. He handed it to Michael. “Dean Winchester. And what am I to call you, hmm? General?” 

Michael smirked, taking the water with a nod of thanks. Now he was in his element. “Is that what you want to call me, Dean?” He opened the bottle of water, drinking it down easily. 

Dean swallowed, obviously impressed by the display. “I think I’d like to start out with Sir,” he said, falling back into his mind again. “Work my way up. You certainly look like you served.” 

Michael chuckled, crushing the plastic in his hand. “Oh?” 

“Yessir,” Dean smirked. “A soldier of God indeed.” 

“But the question I have for you,” Michael murmured, stepping into Dean’s personal space, gaze dropping from bright eyes to plump lips, “is whether or not you can obey my every command.” 

A soft pink tongue darted out to wet Dean’s lips. Michael watched it, watched Dean’s lips form his answer. “I can, Sir.” 

“Then I require your safeword,” Michael murmured. 

“Impala,” Dean answered immediately. 

Michael frowned a little. “Like the gazelle?”

Dean chuckled. “Like the car made by Chevrolet,” he explained. “I’ve got one. 1967.” 

Michael smirked as he tugged Dean even closer to him, so they were touching. “So if I say after dark, I want to take you spread over her hood. . .” he trailed off. 

Dean whined, closing his eyes. 

Michael smiled darkly. 

It wasn’t often he enjoyed a client, but he was going to enjoy Dean Winchester. 

 

They laid in bed together after several, several rounds of sex. Dean rested his head on Michael’s chest, dozing while Michael laid in bed awake. Dean had paid for two days with him, and already, Michael felt himself more comfortable with Dean than any of his sexual partners in the last four years. He was going to be thirty in January. 

_ Is this what sex with a person you like feels like?  _ He asked himself with a sigh. 

Making sure Dean was asleep, Michael looked at his beaten watch before reaching over for the phone and dialing a payphone. 

Lucifer picked up on the third ring. “Micha? Are you okay?” 

“I’m okay, little sun,” Michael soothed. “I just saw the time. Client’s asleep. How many more for you?” 

“Two,” Lucifer admitted. “They’re at the same time. Micha. . . I’m scared.” 

Michael gritted his teeth. Chuck had become too lax in screening their clients, meaning Lucifer got hurt more. “It’ll be okay, little sun,” he murmured. “I promise. We’ll get out.” 

“Maybe,” Lucifer said morosely. 

“Do you have money for food?” Michael asked. “And something hot?” 

“Yeah,” Lucifer sighed. “Mikey, why did we ever say yes to this?” 

“We didn’t know it would be this bad,” Michael sighed. “Just have faith, little sun. We’ll have our happy endings.” 

“Okay,” Lucifer said. “I’m going to eat, then see the client. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” 

“Of course,” Michael said. “I left the number and the room I’m in. If I don’t answer I’m busy with service. Be careful.” 

“I will,” Lucifer said softly. And with that, Lucifer hung up. 

Michael returned the phone to the cradle and wrapped his arms around Dean. 

“Younger brother?” Dean asked sleepily. 

“How could you tell?” Michael asked, combing his fingers through Dean’s hair. 

“‘M an older brother myself,” Dean said. “And I raised the kid. Mom died in a fire when Sammy was a baby. Dad went crazy. Take it you got a similar story?” 

Michael sighed. “My mother walked out on our father when I was sixteen,” he said. “And I don’t think my father’s ever been sane. I gave up dreams to look after my brothers.” 

“How many of them do you have?” Dean asked. 

“Five,” Michael said. “And they’re all gone, except for the one directly after me.” 

Dean ran a soothing hand over the planes of Michael’s chest. “This how you take care of your family?” 

Michael snorted. “Only because Father won’t take on a normal job. Brother and I make enough. We made more when there was five of us working, but. . .” he shrugged. “One by one they left. Found better lives.” 

“Leaving you and him behind,” Dean finished. “Yeah, I know how that is. Sammy’s in college. Stanford. Kid wants to be a lawyer.” He sighed. “I wish I could’ve run off like he did, but someone needed to watch Dad.” 

“Where’s your father now?” Michael asked. 

“Prison. Or a mental hospital.” Dean shrugged. “Don’t know for sure. I did a stint in jail- got busted for illegal gambling. Judge took pity, only gave me nine months. Did my stint and ran. Never looked back.” He stretched out and curled into Michael. 

“Never had dreams of doing anything?” Michael asked. 

Dean smiled. “I want to be a mechanic,” he admitted. “Got myself into school for it, graduated, got work at my uncle’s salvage yard. Bobby’s not really my uncle, but he damn tried to help me raise Sammy.” He looked up at Michael. “What ‘bout you, soldier?” 

“Lawyer,” Michael sighed. “I was a semester away from finishing law school. Then the first of my younger brothers ran off and. . . I had to quit.”

Dean whistled lowly. “Damn,” he said. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for the whole suit and tie deal, but it fits.” He smiled. “What about the brother who stayed?”

Michael smiled. “An author. He was a semester away himself- there’s two years separating him and I- from getting a degree in English with a minor in criminal justice. And he, too, had to give it up.” 

Dean was silent. “Can I ask a question if you won’t get offended?” 

Michael shook his head. 

“Is your dad your. . . ‘manager’?” Dean asked softly. 

Michael inhaled sharply before nodding. “It’s-”

“The family business?” Dean asked. “I get ya. Same with us.”

Michael nodded. 

“So the Devil is your brother,” Dean snorted. “That’s fucking hilarious.” 

Michael chuckled. “Our father had a wry sense of humor in naming us,” he admitted. 

“Pray, tell,” Dean asked. 

“Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Gabriel, Balthazar, Castiel,” Michael recited. 

“Michael,” Dean rolled the name around on his tongue before giggling. 

“What’s so funny?” Michael asked. 

“Soldier of God. . . Michael. . .” Dean chuckled. “Who came up with the whole prayer line?” 

“Lucifer,” Michael groaned. “Last time I ask the brat to do anything creative for me.” 

Dean chuckled and wrapped his arms around Michael with a sigh. “You know what’s weird?” 

“What?” 

“I’ve. . . I’ve never been with someone that I felt this relaxed around. I mean, there’s Sammy, but-” 

“You can’t cuddle naked with your little brother,” Michael smiled. 

Dean nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve slept around- even did a little street walking myself when I was a teen- but. . . nothing’s ever felt this. . .”

“Right?” Michael supplied. 

Dean nodded. “Yeah.” 

“I know what you mean,” Michael sighed, hugging Dean close. “How old are you?” 

“Twenty-six,” Dean said. “You?”

“Twenty-nine,” Michael sighed.

Dean looked up at Michael, surprised. “I thought you were Sammy’s age, and I was going to have to kick your father’s ass for selling jailbait.” 

“Do so,” Michael said with a low growl. “Balthazar and Castiel were taking clients when they were sixteen.” 

“They’re not anymore, are they?” Dean asked, worried.

Michael smiled. “No. They got out two years ago. Last I heard, Balthazar was graduating from college with a degree in journalism and Castiel graduated high school.” 

Dean smiled. “Good.” He sighed heavily before looking up at Michael. “Is it weird for me to say that I want to keep you?” he asked. 

Michael shrugged. “You mean. . .”

“I want. . . I want  _ this, _ ” Dean confessed. “I’ve been wanting to settle down for a long time, but. . . I’ve been afraid. I grew up moving around, and always looking after Sammy. But Sammy’s in school, I have a job, a house, I have  _ stability _ and. . . I am terrified.” 

Michael linked their fingers together. “But I’m broken,” he murmured. “Dean, I’ve been doing this since I was twenty-three. I’m  _ old. _ And I’d never forgive myself if something horrible were to happen to Lucifer.” 

“I’m sure your brother will be okay, he’s resourceful, right?” Dean asked. 

Michael nodded. Lucifer had taken to staying at homeless shelters if the last client of the night had paid him in cash, so he didn’t have to go home. “It’s just. . . well, the reason why he’s so popular is because he’s. . . a little kinky. And Dad used to be really good at screening clients, but he’s too drunk to do a proper screening now. . .” 

“I live twenty minutes away,” Dean said. “We can always check in on him. I know how much that’d mean to you.” 

Michael’s heart started pounding in his chest. “But. . .why me?” he asked softly. 

Dean smiled. “I liked your profile,” he said, “And then, when I saw you, you were. . . God, you were perfect. And then everything that has happened and everything you told me. . .” He hugged Michael. “I want to stay with you. Be with you. Without having to pay for you.” He leaned up and kissed Michael gently. “It feels right. And I don’t want to share you, or let you leave and never see you again. Because you’re like me- too devoted to your brothers to worry about yourself.” 

Michael nodded, dumbfounded. “I. . . I feel the same way about you,” he whispered. 

“Do you have a cell phone?” Dean asked. 

Michael shook his head. “My father took Lucifer’s and mine away after Balthazar and Castiel ran,” he said. “And I don’t have any money.” 

Dean rolled out of bed and dug in his jeans pocket for his own. “Here. I guess you would know how to get ahold of someone if that can help?” 

Michael nodded, catching the phone and dialing a number he told himself he’d never use. 

“Richings Home.” 

“Mr. Richings,” Michael said softly. “We’ve never spoken on the phone, but you know me. My name is Michael Shurely.” 

“Raphael’s eldest brother,” Julian replied. “I take it you need some assistance.” 

Michael nodded. “I do,” he said, when he realized that Raphael’s savior couldn’t see him. “You see, I. . . have a client that wants to help me but. . . I don’t have the funds and I know when I go home, my father will be there.” He swallowed. “He’s gotten worse since Raphael left. I don’t want to leave my stuff, but. . . I feel as though I have no recourse.” 

Julian hummed in thought. “Is there anyone left?” he asked. 

“Lucifer,” Michael croaked. “And I’m afraid if I leave him, I’ll wake up to a headline saying he’s dead.” 

“I take it Lucifer’s clients have been rougher as of late.” 

“Yes, Mr. Richings.” 

“You may call me Julian.” There was the clink of a glass on Julian’s end. “I won’t be able to help your brother the same way I can help you,” he said after a few moments of silence, “but I do have a friend in the area who’s a particularly skilled doctor. I can have him purchase Lucifer once a week for a physical on the sly. Would that make you feel better?” 

Michael let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding, and he reached for Dean’s hand. “Immensely, Mr.- ah, Julian. Thank you.” 

“Of course. I’ve been meaning to have Raphael ask you boys how many were left, but he’s been so busy, between school and the funeral home.” 

Michael smiled at that. “Thank you, again, for taking care of Raphael,” he said. “And thank you for this.” 

“I assume your father’s paypal information is still the same,” Julian said. 

“Yes, Julian,” Michael said, squeezing Dean’s hand. Dean was looking just as excited as he was. He was getting out, and Lucifer was going to be getting help. 

“Will you be able to access your father’s funds at all?” 

Michael thought. “I might,” he admitted. “I know his bank information.”

“I am going to wire you some money,” Julian said. “I will be sending you a thousand dollars. It’s not much, but it should be enough to help you buy some clothes and replace other material items. Raphael is supposed to be calling the payphone tomorrow at ten, correct?” 

“Yes, Lucifer will be there,” Michael said. 

“I will have Raphael relay what I told you to Lucifer, and he can bring what items cannot be replaced,” Julian said. 

Michael started crying, and Dean squeezed his hand. 

“I’m sorry I cannot do more,” Julian said, sounding truly apologetic. 

“Julian, you took my brother under your wing and made sure he didn’t ever have to do this work again,” Michael said through his tears. “You’re helping me, and you’re helping Lucifer. I cannot thank you enough, and there’s no way I can  _ ever  _ repay you.” 

“I’m old, Michael,” Julian said, “and I have no wife or children. And I find this activity to be forced upon young people extremely distasteful. Raphael has given me a semblance of youth, and he has brought me much joy. It is I who cannot repay you.” There was the clacking of a keyboard. “I am wiring the money now. Hurry.” 

The line went dead, and Michael pulled up PayPal. 

 

When Lucifer arrived at the hotel room at three that day, tears filled his eyes as he handed Michael a duffle bag. 

“There’s Mom’s picture and your diploma from college and your textbooks and the clay bee that Cas made you in third grade for mother’s day-” Lucifer’s voice broke and he flung his arms around Michael. 

Michael held Lucifer close, soothing him through his tears. “I won’t be far, little sun,” he whispered. He kissed Lucifer’s temple and hugged him tight. “You’ll be free soon. I promise.” 

Lucifer coughed and hugged Michael. “You be good,” he whispered softly. 

“I will,” Michael murmured,feeling his brother shivering despite it being June. “Be careful, little sun. I’ll tell Julian the number to call when I know it.” 

Lucifer sniffled and nodded. “I don’t want you to go,” he admitted. “But. . . it’s what you need to do.” He wiped his tears away and looked at Michael. “ _ Adieu, _ moon,” he said, trying to be strong. 

Michael kissed the top of Lucifer’s head. “Shine bright, little sun,” he whispered. “And go eat. You’re thin.” 

“You eat too,” Lucifer said. “And remember to get tested this month,it’s time, don’t forget to get eight hours and-” 

“Shh, little sun,” Michael said. “I will. I’ll do all of that. Remember to do it yourself.” 

Lucifer nodded. Taking a deep breath, he looked at Michael again and said, “tell that man of yours thank you.” before setting off. 

Dean came out of the bathroom and wrapped his arms around Michael’s waist, watching Lucifer leave. “He’ll be okay, Michael,” he assured him.

Michael sighed. “I know.” 

“Ready to go?” Dean asked. “All we have to do now is check out.” 

Michael nodded, smiling. “Yes.” 

“Oh good,” Dean said. “I can’t wait to make you burgers. But first, let’s see how your stomach handles liquids.” 

“Chicken noodle?” Michael asked, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

Dean shook his head. “Tomato rice,” he said. “Homemade.” 

Michael smiled and took Dean’s hand, scared to start this new adventure but eager to do so.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer's in Hell, he's sure of it; Gabriel is getting impatient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sobs*

Lucifer felt like he was barely clinging onto life most days. 

Chuck went insane, and for the first time ever, had slapped Lucifer across the face. He gave Lucifer one of those lifeline cells, because Lucifer’s whole world became client after client, and Chuck wanted to be able to tell Lucifer where he was going next and the time. 

He couldn’t eat. He couldn’t sleep. He had no time to do it, and what little time he had to himself he used to talk to his brothers. 

And by this point, Chuck had stopped screening clients entirely. Anyone who wanted a go with ‘the Devil’ got it. 

Lucifer was afraid that he was just going to become another statistic once he realized Chuck was no longer screening his clients. 

The doctor that Julian Richings set him up with was one of his few safe spots. He’d check Lucifer over, let him sleep, make sure he got something in his stomach. The constant pain, hunger, and exhaustion soon became a part of him. There were a couple of other clients who did similar, but not nearly enough. 

He was losing faith that he’d ever get out. That no one was coming to save him. 

His breaking point came as he passed by a church, and he knelt in front of the cross outside, and wept. 

“God,” he whispered, weak with the need to eat, the need to sleep, the need to be warm again, “have you forgotten me? You’ve saved my brothers, why can’t you save me? Am I a bad person? Do I not deserve to be free of this torment?” Tears streamed down his face. “Am I not worth saving? Am I damned to Hell? I can’t. . . I can’t keep doing this.” He bowed his head and wept. “Why hast thou forsaken me, O Lord?”

After that, Lucifer was on autopilot. A robot. Every one of his brothers noticed the change, as did the doctor, but no one moved to help him, either because they couldn’t, or because they were afraid.

 

“We have to do something!” Gabriel exploded at his husband after a night of surveillance. He paced in the living room, fuming. 

“I’m working on it, pumpkin,” Crowley soothed, catching his husband’s wrist and pulling him close. “It’s taking too long, I agree, but you just have to be patient.” 

Gabriel sighed. “Why won’t anyone take him in?” he whispered. “He’s a good guy. He really is. I ever tell you the time he saved a kitten?” 

Crowley shook his head. He’s heard the story before, but he knew Gabriel needed to talk about Lucifer.  

“The poor thing was in the middle of the road,” Gabriel said, “And I told Luci about it. I must’ve been 9 or so, ‘cause he was 12. And he told me to stay back, because he was going to save it. And he ran into the middle of the road just as this pick-up came careening around the corner. Mom came outside just as Lucifer picked up the kitten and the truck slammed into my brother.” He smiled wistfully. “The kitten was fine, and Lucifer looked so proud, even though his leg was at some godawful angle, and Mom couldn’t be too mad at him.” Gabriel sighed sadly. “We had to sell the kitten- no room in the house for six boys a kitten- but I got to see my big brother be a hero.” 

Crowley smiled and eased Gabriel onto his lap. “So he’s a bad boy with a kind heart,” he said. 

“He didn’t turn bad boy until Mom left,” Gabriel said quietly, leaning into Crowley. “I miss her.” 

Crowley hugged Gabriel and kissed his temple. “I always keep my promises, pumpkin,” he whispered, his soft accent soothing Gabriel. “I told you I’d get Lucifer out, and I will. I told you your father will never see a sunrise outside again, and I’ll make sure of that.”

Gabriel sighed and leaned into Crowley. “Thanks, Lee,” he murmured. 

Crowley kissed Gabriel’s cheek. “Let’s go make hot chocolate, love,” he murmured, “and snuggle under the covers, hmm?” 

Gabriel smiled. “That sounds good.” 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Gabriel save Lucifer

Crowley's "something" turned out to be a sting operation. Part of the reason it took six months after Michael had left to pull it together was because the police were conducting their own investigation. They were also going to take on the ‘johns’ that had hired Lucifer, but not Lucifer himself. Lucifer was a victim, and even though prostitution is illegal in the United States, Crowley (somehow) managed to convince them that Lucifer needs therapy, a home, and support, not a jail cell. The DA agreed. 

Everyone wondered how Lucifer slipped through the cracks. Everyone wanted Lucifer to be safe. 

“Who’s ordering?” Gabriel asked at the meeting the day before the operation would take place. 

“I am,” Crowley said. “Not like I’m going to do anything with him, and you’ll be with me.”

“When you and Crowley get the all-clear,” Officer Cain Murderson said, “That’s when you’ll know we’ve nabbed Mr. Shurely, and you can take Lucifer to the hospital and call your brothers.”

Gabriel nodded, taking a deep breath as he stared at the model of the hotel room. “Okay,” he said. 

_ I’m coming for you, big brother. _

 

“The name’s MacLeod,” Crowley drawled, watching his husband pace around the tiny motel room. “I’m in town on business, and want a nice little thing to warm me up.” 

Gabriel rolled his eyes at Crowley’s language, shaking his head. 

“The Devil would do just nicely,” Crowley purred. “I was just wondering, though, if I could rough him up a little? I can? Fabulous. Oh no, I won’t damage his face, I’m sure it’s a pretty one. I only have cash on me right now, I leave the plastic at home when I travel. Less of a paper trail, you know?”

Gabriel really wished his husband didn’t sound so at ease with ordering his brother as a hooker.

“Have him come to the No-Tell Motel on 48,” Crowley said. “Room 147. Pleasure doing business with you Mr. . . Shurley? Yes, a ten minute wait is fine. Thank you.” 

Crowley hung up and patted the bed beside him. “Come here, pumpkin.” 

Gabriel walked over to the bed and crawled into it, resting his head on Crowley’s shoulder. “I really wish that didn’t sound so easy for you,” he admitted softly. 

“I’m a lawyer, love,” Crowley murmured. “You think I haven’t listened to mob bosses’ conversations?” 

Gabriel smiled and nuzzled into Crowley. “That sounds like it could be fantastic role play,” he murmured. “Except it’d sound more like a James Bond and Classic Bond Girl role play with that accent of yours.” 

Crowley snorted and held Gabriel close. 

“Where’d you get MacLeod, anyways?” Gabriel wondered. 

“Mum’s maiden name,” Crowley shrugged. 

Gabriel nodded and curled into Crowley. “I’m scared,” he admitted. 

“He’ll be alright,” Crowley soothed. 

*Nest, do you read me? Over*

Gabriel grabbed the long range walkie talkie off the nightstand. “This is the Nest, over,” he said. 

*The lark is flying, eta two minutes* the walkie crackled, *and we are surrounding the cave. Are you in position? Over*

“In position,” Gabriel said, feeling his heart thud in his chest. “Over.”

*10-4.*

Two and a half minutes later, there was a faint knock at the door. 

Crowley stood up and kissed Gabriel softly before walking over to the door. “Who is it?” 

“Would you care for a dance with the devil?” he heard a soft voice ask.

Crowley smirked as he opened the door to reveal Lucifer looking like he was about to fall over. “I’ve danced with him,” he said, taking Lucifer’s hand, “And signed his black book. Damned man, I am.” 

Gabriel withheld his laughter. How did he know Lucifer and Crowley might get along?

Lucifer pressed up against Crowley with a smile and fluttered pale lashes. “Even the damned can have a night of paradise with a damned soul,” he purred. 

Crowley smiled, closing the door behind Lucifer. Lucifer was really too thin, too beaten. Apparently, the ‘everywhere but the face’ rule didn’t apply, because Lucifer’s cheek was swollen and puffy, and there was a brand new split lip.  

“I’ve got a present for you, Devil,” Crowley murmured. 

“Sleep?” Lucifer asked hopefully. 

“Even better,” Crowley said, slowly leading Lucifer into the main bedroom of the hotel room. 

Gabriel smiled as Lucifer’s pale eyes landed on him. “Hey, Luci,” he said quietly. “I’m home.” 

“Gabe?” Lucifer whispered. “Is that you?” 

“It is,” Gabriel said, standing up and walking to his brother.

Lucifer grabbed Gabriel and hugged him tight, softly crying. He had lost so much of his strength, but he was still strong enough to give Gabriel a bear hug. Gabriel hugged him back, feeling tears come to his own eyes. 

“I should punch you for running off like you did,” Lucifer whispered. “I didn’t get the chance to say good bye. I’ve been worried about you.” 

“I know, Luci,” Gabriel murmured. “I’m sorry. I just. . . I couldn’t do it with Cassie.” 

“I know,” Lucifer whispered. “I know. Cassie’s long gone, now. He’s somewhere down south.” 

Gabriel sighed in relief. “Good. How long did it take him?” 

“Little more than a year,” Lucifer murmured. “He was seventeen.”

“I’m so sorry, Luci,” Gabriel whispered. “For everything.”

“You’re here now,” Lucifer said. “I can die happy.”

“You’re not dying,” Gabriel murmured. “Crowley, radio in.” 

“This is the Nest,” Crowley said. “The lark has landed, over.”

*We have the cave surrounded*

Lucifer looked up at Crowley. “I’m. . . safe?” he whispered. 

Crowley nodded. “You’re safe, lad,” he said quietly. 

Lucifer fainted. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer begins the long road to recovery

The hospital diagnosed Lucifer with malnutrition, dehydration, sleep deprivation, broken ribs, atrophy, a broken foot, nerve damage, and the flu. They got him on medication and sent him home with Crowley and Gabriel. 

“This isn’t going to be easy, pumpkin,” Crowley said, driving back to their house on the outskirts of town. 

“I know,” Gabriel said, looking up from where he was doing research on PTSD. “But I want my brother back.” 

Crowley nodded, gazing in the rearview mirror at Lucifer, curled up in the back seat. He was shivering, and Crowley sighed. “We’ll put him in front of the fire,” he said. 

Gabriel nodded. “Sounds good. When he wakes up I’ll make some pastatina.” 

“What’s that?” Crowley asked curiously. 

“Basically, the Italian version of chicken noodle soup,” Gabriel said. “It clears the gunk out of your sinuses really well. I’m not as good at making it as Mom was, or Mikey, but it’ll be easy on his stomach until we can put something more solid in it.” 

Crowley nodded, smiling. “The kitchen’s yours, pumpkin.” 

Gabriel smiled and leaned over to kiss Crowley’s cheek. “Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“Of course, pumpkin,” Crowley said affectionately. “You can thank me properly when we got home.” 

Gabriel laughed and leaned back in his seat. 

 

Getting Lucifer in the house wasn’t an easy feat. For one, Lucifer was taller than both Crowley and Gabriel; for another, Lucifer had a cast on his foot. Somehow, the two managed to get him into their large house and onto the bed that was in the couch. Crowley built up the fire while Gabriel tucked Lucifer in with a few blankets and a comforter. Lucifer didn’t stir once, and Gabriel brushed his hair back from his face, kissing his forehead. “Sleep well, big brother,” he whispered. 

Crowley gently touched Gabriel’s wrist. “Come to bed, baby,” he murmured. “He’ll probably sleep through the night.” 

Gabriel nodded and took Crowley’s hand. “You’re probably right,” he said softly. 

“We’re a room away,” Crowley said, leading Gabriel towards their bedroom. “And you need to sleep too. You’re looking pale, pumpkin.” 

Gabriel smiled and kissed Crowley as they reached their bedroom. “How did I end up with an amazing husband?” he asked softly. 

“I could ask the same question,” Crowley murmured. 

 

It took another two days for Lucifer to wake up. When he did, his body screamed in pain, his stomach begged for food. But he felt somewhat rested, and a little warmer than normal. 

_ Bed. I’m in a bed. _ He listened, hearing the crackling of a fire and the soft  _ swish  _ of a page of a book being turned. Slowly, he opened his eyes and they fell on the man in the chair by the fire, who was reading something. 

_ Did he buy me for an overnight? _

Thinking it couldn’t hurt to speak, he said, “Have you been enjoying dancing with the devil, sir?” he asked. His lip felt strange, like it had been patched up. 

“I think I’ll stick to my Trickster,” the man said blithely.  _ English accent. _ “How’re you feeling, Lucifer?”

“How do you know my name?” Lucifer whispered. 

The Englishman sat his book down and stood up, walking over to the bed and sitting down next to his curled up body. “Do you remember seeing Gabriel?” he asked softly. 

Lucifer frowned before nodding. “Vaguely,” he said, “But I don’t remember much. I. . . I thought I was dreaming.” 

The man nodded in understanding. “You’re not dreaming, Lucifer,” he said. “Gabriel’s here, with me. I think he’s making you something to eat, you’ve been stirring for about an hour.” 

“What’s he making?” Lucifer asked. 

“Something called pastatina?” The man shrugged. 

Lucifer smiled a little. “The sick food.” 

“Yes,” the man said. “The name’s Fergus Crowley. I typically go by Crowley. I’m Gabriel’s husband.” 

Lucifer blinked. “You married my little brother?” he asked. 

“About two years ago now,” Crowley said. “Found him outside my law office, taking pictures. Took him out for coffee, one thing lead to another.” 

“Aren’t you a bit old for him?” Lucifer asked. 

“Spoken like a true older brother,” Crowley grunted. “I’m only fourteen years Gabriel’s senior.”

Lucifer nodded. “And you treat him well?” he asked. 

Crowley chuckled. “Yes, I do,” he said honestly. 

Lucifer nodded again. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

“Of course,” Crowley said. “Now, how are you feeling?” 

“Like I got hit with a truck again,” Lucifer moaned. “And like I can eat a whole horse. Or three.” 

“No eating full meals like that until you can eat this and not barf,” Gabriel said firmly, bringing in a tray with a large bowl of pastatina. 

Lucifer smiled. “Did you put pepper in it?” he asked weakly. 

“I did, you mook,” Gabriel said, sitting down on Lucifer’s other side and rubbing his back. “Let’s get food in you, and then you can sleep some more.”

“I’ve slept so much,” Lucifer groaned. 

“And you’re sick,” Gabriel said. “Sleep is the best healer. You taught me that, Raphael reaffirmed it.” 

Lucifer groaned. “Can I feed myself?” he asked. 

“Your lip’s numb,” Gabriel said, “I doubt it. Do not make me do airplane noises.” 

Crowley retched. “I’m going to get some work done in my office,” he said. He stood up and leaned over to kiss Gabriel softly. 

Lucifer groaned and ignored it. 

Gabriel smiled as he watched Crowley leave before helping Lucifer up into a sitting position. “C’mon, let’s get some food in you.” 

Lucifer ate quietly for a few minutes before he asked “Gabe?”

“Yeah, Luci?” Gabriel asked, feeding him another spoonful. 

Lucifer swallowed and  asked, “Does Dad know you have me?” There was utter fear in his voice. 

“No,” Gabriel said. “Dad’s in jail, Luci. And they’re going to lock him away for a very long time.” 

“So. . . I don’t have a home?” Lucifer asked quietly. 

Gabriel smiled and kissed Lucifer’s forehead. “You can stay with Crowley and I for as long as you need,” he said softly. “Or as long as you want. We’ll help you. I promise.” 

Lucifer snuggled into Gabriel and took a deep breath. “Okay,” he whispered. 

Gabriel ran his fingers through Lucifer’s hair, feeling his brother fall asleep. 

There was so much work to do.

 

It took Lucifer eight weeks before his ribs and foot were healed. By then, he was able to eat solid food in small meals and generally looked better. He was slowly filling out, and his injuries had healed for the most part. He had to walk with a cane, still, for a few more weeks, but Lucifer didn’t mind that. He was content hiding in Gabriel and Crowley’s home. 

Crowley and Lucifer tolerated each other, and got along well for the most part. Gabriel knew that they may never be bosomfriends, but that didn’t matter. Lucifer seemed to approve of Crowley as Gabriel’s husband, and Crowley seemed to appreciate how easily Lucifer acted as a mother hen when it came to his brothers. It all worked out in the end. 

They got Lucifer into therapy one he was more mobile (“I refuse to see a therapist until I no longer feel like an invalid!”), and he made strides in his recovery. His therapist, a funny man named Garth Fitzgerald IV, seemed to enjoy Lucifer’s company and wasn’t afraid to tell Lucifer when he was being an absolute idiot. Garth diagnosed Lucifer with PTSD, mild separation anxiety, and something that basically amounted to Lucifer being touch starved. Gabriel made it a point that when he was near Lucifer, he was constantly touching his older brother, letting him feel his presence and his touch. Crowley touched Lucifer, but not as often. To help, Crowley did find and hire a professional cuddler to come cuddle with Lucifer twice a week. The woman Crowley hired was named Dagon, and there were times Gabriel got home from a photo shoot to see them cuddling on the bed in the living room, giggling and talking happily. 

Chuck was in the news almost constantly, trying to find a way to push the blame off of him for selling his sons’ bodies. Gabriel and Crowley tried to keep it out of the house, but they also knew Lucifer heard it everywhere. They banned reporters from talking to Gabriel or Lucifer about it; the one time an overzealous reporter cornered Lucifer at the coffee shop, Lucifer ended up having to hit the reporter in the head with the loaf of French bread that he had bought. That man was out of a job the next day. 

Lucifer had his bad days, days he’d pace around the house and ask Crowley or Gabriel why he didn’t have any clients that day, and he’d get angry but they were prepared and made sure that Lucifer knew that he would never have to do that again. 

Lucifer found a few coping mechanisms, either on his own or with Garth’s help. Writing helped. When Lucifer told his therapist about his dream to become an author, Garth’s response was to take Lucifer to the stationary store and bought him a handful of notebooks and pens, telling him to write. And Lucifer did write, almost constantly. Where there used to be a writer’s block, there wasn’t any more. The day Crowley came home with a brand new Macbook Pro for Lucifer to use for writing was the day Gabriel snapped a picture of Lucifer giving Crowley one of his brightest smiles. 

Lucifer also found joy in music, discovering a talent he didn’t realize he had. Gabriel set his brother up with a vocal coach and soon, Lucifer began singing if he was feeling distressed or extremely happy. 

It wasn’t long before Gabriel took Lucifer out shopping for new clothes that Lucifer spied a spiked leather jacket, similar to the one that he had worn throughout high school and college. 

“What happened to it?” Gabriel asked softly. 

“I sold it,” Lucifer admitted. “A mother with a fourteen year old son. The poor boy was shivering, and his mom said he needed a coat. They had been on the streets and it turned out that her son had Hodgkins’ Lymphoma. I gave the jacket to the boy, and she insisted on paying me. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Lucifer smiled as he grabbed the jacket off the rack and slid it on. Everything seemed to relax once that happened, and Lucifer played with one of his lip rings. 

Gabriel smiled. “What’d you spend the money on?” he asked. 

Lucifer smiled even more broadly. “Four peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for Castiel,” he said, “and an energy drink for Balthazar.” 

Gabriel laughed. 

Lucifer also started volunteering down at the library, sorting books and shelving them. Eventually, after about four months of volunteering, the library hired him to work there. The brightest smile was on Lucifer’s face every day when he finished cleaning and rotating (or changing) his piercings for the morning and slipped on his black leather jacket to go to work. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer gets visits from his brothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *wails*

Lucifer had gotten somewhat addicted to SnapChat, Instagram, and Facebook, because they were things he didn’t have and he loved them. Constant communication with his brothers? Yes. Not having to rely on a phone that got 250 minutes a month? Yes. Lucifer was here for that. 

His Instagram was also a hit (tattooed-devil) for tattoos and the aesthetic of “bad boys who are kind”. His most popular picture was a picture someone had taken of him with his phone at a children’s book reading down at the library. The jacket was off and on the back of the chair, and Lucifer was leaning forward, letting dozens of children from the ages of three to eight marvel at the tattoos on his arms, and Lucifer had the brightest smile on his face. 

He used SnapChat to send pictures of himself, Gabriel, and Crowley to his brothers; and Facebook he was using to promote short stories he was writing as he worked on a “top secret book project” and to show off his amazing transformation. Lucifer used Facebook as his social media platform to encourage people to speak out against sexual slavery. His most common post read: 

_ There is a difference between prostitution, and sexual slavery. Those who choose to work as a sex worker get to choose their own clients; they can make sure that certain clients never grace the most intimate spots, or even breathe in their general direction. Their money is wholly their own, and sex isn’t always the endgame; sometimes it’s a meal, or good companionship with a man or woman of the world. And at the end of the day, despite how many hands have graced the skin of the worker, the worker’s body is their own. They have complete and total consent.  _

_ Those who either chose the life and when they try to get out only to find they’re not allowed, or were forced into the life by some other means- they don’t have any of the above. Occasionally, you’ll find a good “pimp” who makes sure that the workers are happy, healthy, and satisfied, but that is not the case many times. Many times, this isn’t a choice that a person made. The person who holds your leash isn’t you; it’s the person who controls what you do, when you do it. You give money to them, because that’s what you do. They make it sound like a privilege that you’re even getting some money. They can and will sell you to less savory clientele; clients who will beat on you and think that they’re entitled because ‘you’re just a whore’ and ‘your pimp said you liked it rough’. Your body doesn’t belong to you- consent is a foreign word, spoken by lips of lovers and self respecting people who have no clue of the horrors of the mere idea of being told “No isn’t a word you can say.”  _

_ That is the difference between prostitution and sexual slavery. Prostitution on one’s own free will is a consensual entity. Sexual slavery is a form of rape disguised as a crime. And yet, both are illegal. Isn’t it sad that there are people out there who enjoy nothing more than bringing someone the ultimate satisfaction, and they’re lumped in with the people who had no say in the matter? _

_ Maybe, just maybe, if prostitution was legal- and respected- the need for sexual slavery where one can be bought and paid for night after night with no regards to the person’s wellbeing would dwindle.  _

 

Lucifer had lived with Crowley and Gabriel for about a year and a half when they decided that visits from his brothers would be good. 

Michael was first. Dean was at a convention for classic cars two hours away, and Michael immediately ran to his younger brother, joyous to see the pink back in his brother’s face and when he hugged him tight, that Lucifer’s reply was just as tight and strong as it was before everything went to Hell. 

“You need a haircut,” Michael murmured, ruffling Lucifer’s hair. 

Lucifer laughed and batted Michael’s hand away. “Come on in, Crowley’s making rabbit stew and I’m  _ starving _ .” 

Michael laughed and allowed Lucifer to drag him inside. He hugged Gabriel just as tightly and told him how much he’d missed him. Gabriel gave his apologies but Michael said they all did, except Lucifer. They both shared guilty looks, but Lucifer was too busy begging a slice of fresh bread from Crowley to be paying attention. 

Dinner was a wonderful affair, with Michael fussing over both of his younger brothers and engaging in a lawyerly debate with Crowley. It was actually disturbing how well Michael and Crowley got along. 

Michael had gotten his public notary license and was working as a notary to raise money to go back to law school, determined to get his law degree and pass the bar exam. Lucifer admitted that he thought about going back to school, but wasn’t sure if he felt ready. Michael told him he’ll know better than anyone when he was ready, and that even if he never went back for his degree, the work he’s done outshined that, and besides, the job at the library was paying him well. 

After dinner, Michael gave Lucifer an early birthday present from both him and Dean- an essential oils diffuser with several essential oils. Lucifer had discovered scents did things for him, and he and Garth had been experimenting with different smells and charting how they made Lucifer feel. Lucifer was overjoyed and laughed when Michael insisted on taking selfies with him “like all the cool kids are doing”. 

Gabriel had to grab the camera towards the end of Michael’s visit, because seeing Lucifer curled up in Michael’s arms, with Michael keeping his brother safe, both of them asleep, was a moment that Gabriel couldn’t pass up. 

 

Balthazar was next. 

Balthazar was in town on assignment; he was doing coverage for the trial on their father. He had changed his name after college, becoming Balthazar Roché (“Pronounced like Ferrero Rocher, but spelled without the ‘r’ at the end.”) and while he wasn’t looking forward to being one of the reporters in the room, he was determined to do it, for his brother’s sake. He promised Lucifer that unless Lucifer asked, he wouldn’t talk about his work around him. 

Samandriel, one of the men who helped rescue him and Castiel, accompanied Balthazar as his videographer, and Lucifer did  _ not  _ miss any of the tender glances that Balthazar and Samandriel shared. They weren’t that far apart in age, but Samandriel  _ was  _ Castiel’s age, and Castiel was still young. 

Balthazar, however, assured his older brother that he wasn’t taking advantage of Samandriel and that he might even be in love with him. Lucifer smiled and gave Balthazar his blessing before the two settled in for a writing binge together. Gabriel’s next photo was of his two brothers, one older and one younger, sitting across from each other, two steaming mugs of coffee next to their laptops, writing away. After an hour, they’d swap laptops and read over and edit each other’s work, both of them giggling happily. 

The trial went on for two weeks, based on the sheer amount of evidence that they needed, and Lucifer went to court the day the jury announced the verdict. He felt like he needed to be there. 

Balthazar was there, as were other reporters. Chuck looked worse for wear- apparently, prison had not agreed with him. Lucifer felt his throat close up, but then he let out a deep breath and sat in the back of the court room. 

When the jury of six men and six women convicted Chuck of sexual slavery, unlawful imprisonment, negligence, and a slew of other charges, recommending fifteen to twenty-five, Lucifer had tears in his eyes. When the judge affirmed the sentence, Lucifer openly wept. He was wholly and truly free. 

And nothing gave him more satisfaction than watching Chuck being lead out in handcuffs and his eyes landing on his second eldest son. Lucifer smirked and flipped his father off before hugging Balthazar close. 

He told Garth that he truly felt like he could move on after seeing his father being led away. 

Balthazar’s birthday present for Lucifer, given to him on his thirtieth birthday, was a new tattoo that they both got together- a semicolon, with a halo above the circle. It was Balthazar’s first, and he got a bonus tongue piercing, paid for by Lucifer. 

If the screams from the last night of Balthazar’s and Samandriel’s stay at Crowley’s house were of any indication, Samandriel  _ definitely _ was on board with the tongue piercing. 

 

Raphael came a month after Balthazar and Samandriel, excited that he was so close to becoming a pathologist that would eventually work hand in hand with Julian. The two immediately began talking about the latest unsolved cases they’d read, or the serial killers they researched. Crowley finally had to intervene, telling them that the topic of serial killers, unsolved murders, and general mayhem of the murder sort, while fascinating, was  _ not  _ pleasant table conversation for everyone involved, looking pointedly at his husband, who was looking a little green. Contrite, Raphael and Lucifer apologized before returning to their dinner. Their conversation when they resumed was just as lively and animated as it had been for dinner, enough so that Gabriel was thankful for noise cancelling headphones and Asia. Crowley even joined in on the conversation with examples of cases of bizarre murders, or murders done by crime lords he’s defended. 

Raphael looked over Lucifer physically, content that his mental and emotional states had been looked at by Michael and Balthazar and trusting their assessments (plus listening to Lucifer talk about their old topics of conversation reaffirmed this) and he was pleased that all of Lucifer’s tattoos and piercings healed well, and that Lucifer was looking more like he did before Gabriel ran away. 

Raphael’s present to Lucifer was twofold- a sculpture of a skull that Lucifer promptly put onto his desk (it took him four days to realize it lit up), and a blanket that Raphael had made, a rich black one with red devil horns. Lucifer had managed to sneak making a blanket for Raphael and mailed it to Julian after Raphael left, a warm slate grey with a chickadee on it, and Raphael spent years teaching himself how to crochet before crocheting this for Lucifer. 

Gabriel’s picture of the two of them was of Raphael playing Crowley’s piano in front of the fire and Lucifer singing. Gabriel wasn’t sure what Lucifer was singing, as it was a slow piece from some obscure musical (Gabriel only knew of Phantom of the Opera and Les Miserables, and those were on Crowley’s terms), but seeing his brothers share more than one mutual passion warmed him to his core. 

 

Castiel and Benny came over winter break, bundled up against the cold, and bearing all of Lucifer’s favorite foods from the Cajun food family. Lucifer was pleased to see such wonderful food and to meet Castiel’s savior. Castiel was able to finish high school, and he had graduated from college with honors with a marketing degree. He was now working for Benny’s soulfood restaurant down in the bayou, keeping the books. Lucifer, once again, didn’t miss the tender touches and soft glances Benny and Castiel kept giving, but he waited until he saw a problem. He trusted Castiel’s judgement, and he knew that Castiel had done well for himself when Benny pulled Lucifer aside in the middle of the Christmas Eve festivities of running around in pajamas like little kids (except for Crowley, who watched everything with a sort of indulgent grumpiness) and asked for permission to propose to Castiel. Benny explained he knows he’s an older man (Raphael’s age), but that he loved Castiel with all his heart, and wouldn’t do anything to hurt him after the horrors he went through. Lucifer had him promise to ask Michael, and gave the usual big brother warning before asking Benny for his secret red beans and rice recipe. 

Gabriel’s photography skills came in handy later that night, when Gabriel’s Jack Russell that Crowley got him knocked the angel off the top of the tree, so Lucifer grabbed Castiel and tried to hoist him onto the top of the tree with Castiel jokingly crying out for his boyfriend. 

 

With each visit from his brothers, affirming that they still loved him, and cared for him, Lucifer’s smile became brighter and he became more relaxed as he realized that his family never abandoned him. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer meets Dean's younger brother, Sam

It was another classic car convention a year later that brought Michael back to Crowley, Gabriel, and Lucifer, but he had two more people with him. 

Dean couldn’t find a decent hotel that would ensure that his classic car would go unharmed, and after several long conversations with Crowley over the phone, Crowley said Dean and Michael could stash the car there and stay over while the convention was going on, even a little longer. 

The other person was Sam, Dean’s younger brother. He was a year older than Balthazar and he was in law school out East, had just finished his first year and hadn’t seen Dean in a couple of years. It was the perfect set up. 

Lucifer came home from working at the library astride his motorcycle, another gift to himself, to see the sleek black Chevy Impala pulled up besides Crowley’s BMW and Gabriel’s hot pink Dodge Charger in the driveway. 

He parked his bike in the little shed he had built himself and headed inside, unbuckling his helmet and pulling it off as he entered the kitchen. 

“A donorcycle, really?” Michael said, walking over and hugging Lucifer. 

Lucifer laughed and hugged his brother back, the helmet landing solidly on Michael’s back with a  _ thunk. _ “I’m a careful driver,” he said. 

“As if the helmet to my back wasn’t an indication of that,” Michael said dryly. “How was work?” 

“Good!” Lucifer said cheerfully. “We got a slew of new young adult books in today, so I was busy cataloguing in the back most of the day, but children’s hour was  _ packed.  _ I’m going to end up having to have sign ups months in advance. 

“And what did you read to the children today?” Michael asked. 

“ _ Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, _ ” Lucifer said with a smile. “They love it. Some of the parents want me to do a little bit of an older book. Like a Judy Blume book or something.” 

Dean came into the kitchen with a snort. “Never would’ve pegged you for a librarian, Old Scratch,” he teased. 

“Oh bite me,” Lucifer said blandly. 

“Don’t,” Michael warned his boyfriend, leaning in to kiss Dean’s cheek. “Behave, both of you.” 

Lucifer rolled his eyes and set his helmet up on the shelf by the door and shed his leather jacket. “I love the library,” he said with a smile. “They pay me well and they said they may make me the children’s librarian before the year is out.” 

“Yeah?” Dean grinned. “The kids don’t get freaked out by the skulls on your arms?” 

“Are you kidding?” Lucifer laughed. “They  _ love  _ the skulls. Oh, I got the cutest question today. Margaret- the five year old who said I should grow out my hair to look like an 80’s rock star?” 

Dean laughed before giving Lucifer a speculative glance. “You do look a bit like Robert Plant,” he commented. 

“Oh, bite me, I’m  _ definitely  _ Angus Young,” Lucifer snarked back. 

“I know who you’re talking about,” Michael said. 

“She asked me if someone has to help me paint my tattoos on every day,” Lucifer smiled. 

“Okay, that  _ is  _ adorable,” Dean admitted. “What’d you tell her?”

“That it’s actually on my skin forever, and that sometimes I have to go back to make the colors brighter,” Lucifer said, “but they’ll be with me, even when I die, and she got really quiet before asking me if it stains my clothes.” 

Michael chuckled. “That is cute,” he said. He looked down at his own tattoo on his arm. “I think I need to get my cross touched up.” 

Lucifer was busy examining his arms. “I think I need to get my Bible quote touched up,” He said, looking on the outside of his left arm. 

“Which quote?” a new voice asked, and Lucifer turned to meet a taller man, with shaggy chestnut hair and a bright smile. 

“Isaiah 14:12,” Lucifer said. “‘How thou art fallen from Heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning!’” He smiled. 

Michael snorted. “Any other things related to your name that you’ve got tattooed?” he teased. 

“You must be Lucifer,” the newcomer said. He held out his hand. “I’m Sam.” 

“Dean’s brother,” Lucifer said, taking Sam’s hand and shaking it. “And to answer your question, Michael, yes. There’s the wings on my back that was my first tattoo, the other arm says  _ Better to Reign in Hell than to Serve in Heaven _ -” 

“ _ Paradise Lost _ , John Milton,” Sam said. 

Lucifer grinned. “I also have a goatman, another quote from  _ Paradise Lost _ , and a quote that says ‘the devil doesn’t come dressed in a red cape and pointed horns, he comes as everything you’ve ever wished for’.”  

“What about the semicolon with the halo?” Sam asked, pointing to the tattoo on the top of Lucifer’s right middle finger, towards his hand. 

“I got that as a present from my brother, Balthazar,” Lucifer admitted. “He’s got one that’s matching.” 

“Didn’t you get something pierced then?” Michael asked. 

Lucifer shook his head. “I’m done being pierced,” he admitted. “It doesn’t bring the same satisfaction that tattoos do.” 

“Where are you pierced? Besides your lip,” Sam asked politely. 

Lucifer pointed to the bridge of his nose, showing off the black barbell. “This is more of a medical necessity, I’ve broken my nose so many times that it deviated my septum,” he explained. “I’ve got both of my nipples done, and there’s one below the belt.” 

Michael shuddered. “I don’t know how you managed that one,” he admitted. 

“Simple. I laid down and thought of England,” Lucifer grinned. “Michael told me you’re studying to become a lawyer,” he said, turning back to Sam. 

Sam nodded. “I just started my first year of law school, Michael and I go to the same school,” he said. 

Lucifer nodded with a smile. 

“Dean says you’re a librarian?” Sam asked. 

Lucifer nodded. “Been a librarian for about two years now. I do a lot of the cataloguing and shelving, plus children reading time three times a week. I’m going to try to start up a summer reading program that encourages children and teenagers to read.”

Sam beamed. “That sounds amazing. Mind telling me your favorite book?” 

Lucifer groaned. “I’ve read so many,” he sighed. “I can’t possibly choose just  _ one _ .” 

“What about the most recent book?” Sam asked happily. 

“Oh, that’s easy,” Lucifer admitted. “It was a book where someone speculated who the Zodiac Killer was. My brother Raphael recommended it to me.” 

“Oh! Which one?” Sam asked excitedly. 

Michael leaned in to whisper to Dean, “Great. There’s now four people in this family who like to talk about serial killers.” 

Dean snorted. “Sammy collects stats on them like they’re, I dunno, baseball figures.” 

“They do make trading cards for serial killers,” Michael grunted. “I’m collecting them for Lucifer for his birthday next year.” 

Dean chuckled. 

“What about you?” Lucifer asked once they had finished. 

“Another true crime, unsolved mystery. Kind of. It’s called  _ Poison: The Doctor’s Dilemma _ ,” Sam said. “It’s about someone poisoning the water supply in a town in southern Missouri with lead. It was written by-” 

“James William Lewis, a suspect in the 1984 Chicago Tylenol murders,” Lucifer said excitedly. “I did a paper on that in college, so it’s been ages since I’ve read it.” 

Sam beamed. 

“Oh God,” Dean grunted. “My brother’s coming home with a boyfriend.” 

 

Lucifer and Sam were almost inseparable during Sam’s stay with his brother and brother’s boyfriend. They were both early risers, Sam to get in a run and Lucifer to get ready for work in the morning, so it became a habit that Lucifer would make him and Sam breakfast (Sam tried to make breakfast once and nearly destroyed the 100 year old cast iron skillet that had been in Crowley’s family for generations) while Sam went on his run. They’d eat breakfast together before they cleaned up in their respective bathrooms and Lucifer got ready for work. Sam would see Lucifer off before heading off to school with a grumpy, irritable Michael who just wanted more sleep and a chance to not wake up at the asscrack of dawn. 

When Lucifer came home, he and Sam were on the couch together, side by side at first. Sam would do his homework while Lucifer worked on his book and social media platforms. It was evident that Lucifer was comfortable near Sam. 

As the week went on, they migrated closer to each other, and began touching each other absently. A caress when Sam handed Lucifer a fresh cup of coffee; the gentle brush of a foot on top of another while they wrote on their laptops; shoulders pressed against each other as they read over a sentence to make sure it made sense. 

They’d stay up half the night in companionable silence, only talking when they needed to, and Michael knew Lucifer was truly comfortable and trusting of Sam when he went to check on them one night after not hearing them say good night to find Lucifer asleep on the couch, the glasses he had to start wearing when he was working for long hours on the computer askew on his face and his head on Sam’s lap. Sam looked up at Michael with a sleep shrug. “I don’t want to move him,” he whispered. 

Michael chuckled and simply drew the blanket on the back of the couch around Lucifer. “Don’t,” he said. “He really likes you.” 

Sam smiled and ran his fingers through Lucifer’s thick hair. “I really like him, too,” he admitted. “I’ve always been a sucker for a ‘bad boy’ who has a heart of gold.” 

Michael chuckled and ruffled Sam’s hair. “Don’t forget that you have class,” he said. 

Sam groaned and settled in for the night. 

That night, the energy between Sam and Lucifer changed. They were almost in each other’s laps now. In fact, Lucifer had taken to resting his head on Sam’s thigh and using his legs to hold up his laptop to frantically type. And instead of going into separate bedrooms, they started going into Lucifer’s bedroom. 

Dean attempted to berate Sam for moving so fast, but Sam gave his brother what was dubbed a ‘bitchface’ and explained that Lucifer enjoyed cuddling and since he tended to be colder, due to the nerve damage he sustained, cuddling against a ‘human furnace’ (as Lucifer dubbed Sam) was actually beneficial. 

Sam knew of Lucifer’s past, and he didn’t want to rush Lucifer, and Lucifer was content on not being rushed into anything. He was perfectly content with snuggling up to Sam at night, talking about anything and yet nothing at all until they drifted off to sleep. 

The day they left marked a new development in Sam’s and Lucifer’s budding relationship, as they exited the house holding hands and were seen talking quietly to each other while Michael and Dean said goodbye to Gabriel and Crowley. 

And right before they all got into the car, Sam slamming the trunk down on the Impala, Lucifer ran over to Sam and impulsively kissed him briefly, cheeks blossoming pink as he did so. 

Sam was shocked, but returned the kiss with a bright, dimpled smile. 

Gabriel looked up at Crowley in amusement. “That reminds me of our first kiss,” he said. 

“You and your brother definitely are from the same family,” Crowley agreed, wrapping his arm around Gabriel’s waist and hugging him close. “You know, I’m not Lucifer’s biggest fan, but even I have to say this- I think the Moose will be good for him.” 

“Same,” Gabriel said, laughing as Dean honked the horn to jar Sam and Lucifer out of holding each other and exchanging soft, gentle kisses. Lucifer opened Sam’s car door for him and shut it gently before walking back over, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“Big brother’s still got game,” Gabriel grinned. 

Lucifer flushed and kicked a rock. “It felt right,” he admitted. 

“Good,” Crowley said with a kind smile. “So what are you going to do now?” 

Lucifer beamed. “Write,” he said. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A family reunion brings great joy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! Here's the fic that consumed my life for four days. 
> 
> Special thanks once more to @samwise-the-true-hero and @spnoucantkeepmedown and @madamelibrarian for their encouragement and once more again to @spnyoucantkeepmedown for beta'ing. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed. . . whatever the fuck this is :)

It had been four years since Lucifer had been rescued by Gabriel and Crowley, and a year since he met Sam Winchester, and so he suggested a family reunion. Gabriel and Crowley were quick to agree. They had planned, sent out the proper invitations, and now, today was the day. 

Everyone was dressed casually, in jeans and polos. Crowley and Dean barbequed, as it was a hot, sweltering day in July, and Gabriel made a multitude of pies and cheesecakes to eat while Lucifer made their mother’s recipe for potato and macaroni salad.

Everyone was there. Raphael was there; Julian couldn’t be there, there was an important person that he had to embalm to put into a mausoleum. Julian sent his regards, as well as fast food gift cards for everyone. It seems as though everyone had their vice, and the old mortician’s was fast food. Everyone giggled over it, and even Raphael remarked on the irony. Raphael was working as a forensic pathologist, and he was actually helping the police work on a serial killer case. Lucifer, Crowley, and Sam’s interest piqued immediately, but Michael insisted that the bodies were  _ not  _ polite table conversation, reminding them that Gabriel got squicked at the talk of bodily fluids and that Castiel was still “too young” for that sort of talk (completely ignoring Castiel’s protests). Raphael promised he’d fill them all in on the case after dinner. 

Balthazar was there, as was Samandriel; they were holding hands and sporting matching engagement rings as they brought wine from the winery that they co-owned. Samandriel and Balthazar did make it to working for the Huffington Post as a crime writing/video duo. They got to travel and work together, and they were thinking about getting married in a few years- when they’ve saved up enough money for an around the world honeymoon. Everyone had to giggle when Balthazar kissed Samandriel’s cheek and the other man mumbled about his fiance being a heathen. 

Castiel was there with Benny, having brought pecan pie and a large pot of shrimp and crab gumbo. The soulfood restaurant was booming with business, and they were planning on getting married the following year. They were debating on having a quiet elopement ceremony when all five of Castiel’s older brothers threatened bodily harm if they eloped. 

“We missed Gabriel’s wedding!” Raphael said, giving his brother a look. “And you’re our baby brother. You elope, you have five very unhappy big brothers.” 

Castiel conceded defeat and before wanting to face plant into his burger as Michael and Lucifer argued who’d walk Castiel down the aisle. Benny just chuckled and tugged his fiance close, smiling happily. 

Michael and Dean were there, and they brought Sam along. The two had to quietly confess that they recently eloped. Michael got five younger brothers giving him death glares and Sam giving his older brother a supreme bitch face. Everyone calmed, though, when Dean and Michael explained that they were looking at adopting a little girl, and that it was easier to go through the adoption paperwork as a married couple rather than as boyfriends. Lucifer still told them that they were in for it and Castiel murmured to Benny that they could do the same thing his eldest brother did. Benny shushed his fiance and told him that he didn’t relish being murdered by two people who had an unhealthy fascination with serial killers, looking pointedly at Lucifer and Raphael. “Especially one who knows how to make my death look like an accident and one who knows how to make sure that I end up in the burn pile.” 

Castiel admitted that maybe his older and therefore supposedly wiser fiance had a point. 

Michael also announced that the following week, he’d be taking the bar exam, but he won’t find out his results until November. He wasn’t too worried, though; if he didn’t pass the first time around (something that Lucifer found highly unlikely) he could always retake it. He and Dean showed pictures of their quiet courthouse wedding, both of them dressed in tuxes. The picture sharing promptly ended when Lucifer accidentally found a photo featuring Dean and a very  _ very  _ red ass and Michael ended up chasing his younger brother around the yard. Sam just gave his brother a smirk before Dean told him, “shut your piehole.” 

Lucifer had a few announcements of his own. The first announcement was that of Sam being his boyfriend, to which everyone cheered and congratulated Lucifer on having found someone who complimented him so well. His second announcement was that that fall, he’d be returning to college to finish out his degree. He explained that while his field didn’t really require a degree, he did want to finish it just so he could have that small token of accomplishment. He also mentioned that he was looking at going to grad school for “information sciences” (a really fancy way of saying he was going to become a Master of Librarian Work). Everyone congratulated him on wanting to further his education and for not letting his past get the best of him when it came to it. 

The third announcement was that he had become the Head Children’s Librarian down at the library. Everyone simply cooed at how their tough, strong, tattooed Lucifer was a softie and worked with children mostly. They were extremely happy for him, knowing that he was going to have a happy working life down at the library. 

The fourth announcement was a total shock to everyone. 

Lucifer was going to be a published author. 

He had already self published an anthology of short stories he had written on Amazon, and through that, a publishing agent got ahold of him and asked if he had a true life story that would make a good story. Lucifer admitted that he did, and he had already been working on it. The release date was next August, and Lucifer was in the middle of his final edits. 

“What’s it about?” Michael asked, cocking his head to the side. 

Lucifer smiled. “It’s called  _ Angel of the Night, _ ” he said. “And it’s about my life as a sex worker. I’ve been advocating for more fair treatment and more understanding towards those of us who use sex work to survive, and I thought; what better way to highlight this than to use my story?” 

Everyone smiled warmly. 

“Garth’s read it,” he admitted. “And he said it really made a lot of sense and that he’s going to pre order it. He had originally told me to write down my experiences as a form of therapy, but. . . it grew. And it’s helped me heal.” 

“Has anyone  _ other  _ than your therapist read it?” Balthazar asked. 

Lucifer shared a guilty look with Sam. “He’s been helping me edit,” he admitted. 

Sam leaned in and kissed Lucifer’s cheek. “He’s a very talented man,” he praised, relishing in the pink that blossomed across his older boyfriend’s face. 

“We get free copies, right?” Gabriel teased. 

“Sure, if you want to pay for my autograph,” Lucifer teased back. “I’m also moving out of Crowley’s and Gabriel’s. Sam and I have found an apartment nearby, in town. It’s closer to the library and to school, so we can easily access it. And it’s time I get out of my brother’s house.”

“That’s a big step,” Michael said. “Moving in with your boyfriend.” 

Lucifer smiled at his older brother. “I know,” he said. “And I’m scared, but I’m also excited. I haven’t had a place to truly call my own in. . . ever, if we’re honest. And I know I can’t live alone.” He squeezed Sam’s hand, who squeezed it back. “And I already know Sam and I are going to last.” 

“I think it’s time for a toast,” Crowley said, standing and lifting his glass of scotch. “To new beginnings and family, and above all else; success.” 

“Hear hear!” Balthazar yelled. 

“Hedonist,” Samandriel teased playfully. 

“Many happy returns,” Lucifer said, leaning back in his seat. 

His family was together again, all under one roof, even if it was just for one day. And as Sam leaned into kiss Lucifer sweetly, Lucifer realized that he couldn’t wish the past away. 

Because if he wished that his father had never made him and his brothers into sex workers, he wouldn’t have  _ this.  _ A family, a story to tell, scars to proudly wear on his sleeve. He wouldn’t have Sam. 

And most of all, he wouldn’t be the same person. 

He couldn’t wait to tell Garth about his discovery, knowing exactly how that conversation was going to go. 

“ _ Oh Luci- you’re finally getting it. It took you long enough. Good job! I think I can put Mr. Fizzles away.”  _

_ “Please put Mr. Fizzles away, Garth. I’m not a child.”  _

_ “Are you sure? ‘Cause Mr. Fizzles can tell when you’re being a LI-ar.” _

_ “I am thirty two years old, Garth. Please put the sock puppet away.”  _

_ “Okay. So. Lollipop?”  _

_ “Only if it’s lemon-lime.”  _

_ “So tell me more about revelations you’ve had while being a big tough librarian.”  _

He wondered if there was something against introducing your boyfriend to your therapist. 

As the sun set and the stars rose, and everyone began to leave the party, Lucifer sighed over his third glass of wine of the night before looking up at the sky. Smiling, he raised his glass to the heavens, as if to toast God himself, and thought: 

_ I guess you didn’t forsake me after all, God. Thank you for leading me down the right path, and for having your Son carry me during my times of need. _

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell
> 
> Comments and Kudos are Shiny!!


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